Sesen
by Ahmar
Summary: When Thief Bakura and the Nameless Pharaoh are sent back from the dead, they have a lot more on their plates than just finding their hosts and a meal. FIRST CHAPTER UPDATED
1. Default Chapter

**Revised Author's Notes for 7/4/07: ** As of today, Sesen is twenty two chapters long. If you're just starting out reading this monster, I encourage you to stick it out, and give it a chance. I've finally got ample time to update it often, and I look forward to wrapping the story up by the end of this year. Sesen may not be the most romantic fic out there, and I know that many people read fics just for the pairing angle, but I'd be thrilled to have new readers. Reguardless, I love this story, and will continue to update it to its completion.

**Original ****Author's Notes: **I do not own Yuugiou. That... really shouldn't need saying.

This fic came out of my being dissatisfied with the canonical 'sequels' to the series. R was crack-induced drivel, and GX just seems so plotless. So, I whipped up a half-arsed plot and dropped the poor characters into it. I'll admit here and now that Bakura's (the fluffy one, not the nasty one) characterization fades in and out. I've just always had a hard time pinning his character down.

...That sounded wrong. Moving on, here's chapter one.

* * *

**Sesen chapter 1: Coming Forth by Day  
**  
Angry cries rang out from the street as a hooded youth scurried through the dank alleyway toward Atem. The people in the street behind the boy had been whipped into a frenzy by now. Who would have thought that one man, having discovered all his pocket change missing, could cause such a stir?

"Go, go, go!" the boy hissed as he shoved Atem in the direction he was headed. "Out this one, then down the street a ways, then across to another alley."

The smaller boy, Atem, wasted no time in following the order. In their present situation, he was certainly in no postition to argue with someone so accustomed to this sort of activity. He ran hard, as if something truly awful were about to spring up from behind him, and in a sense, it could be. The retribution they could face for the theft was motivation enough without Bakura yanking at his arm every now and again to hurry him along. The voices behind them faded, and he was grateful for Bakura's deft pickpocketing skills. It had taken the man a little while to figure out what had happened, and that had given them just enough time to make a run for it. They burst out of the alley, startling a middle-aged woman into flinging her sack of groceries into the air in the process. Atem may have stopped to help her under any other circumstances, but she would have to make due with shoveling all her things back into the bag herself. The more alert people in front of them jumped out of the way, while others had to be shoved aside or dodged. Bakura tugged hard on Atem's arm, guiding him into the congested street. He had found their next alley quickly enough, but Atem wished that he had waited until they reached a crosswalk. Not only was this dangerous, but it was highly suspicious as well.

Dodge, stop, sprint, dodge, mind the cars. Why couldn't there be an easier way to get money for food? Or at least a more honest, less dangerous way? Wondering now was pointless, of course. Bakura had talked him into this, and there was no getting out of whatever trouble that resulted from it. Into the next alley now. Bakura reached up to adjust the hood of his sweatshirt. A white-haired, dark-skinned teen in a red sweatshirt would be far too easy to recognise if anyone in the crowd had gotten a look at him. It seemed unlikely, though, considering how long it had taken Bakura's target to realise he had been robbed. Minorly robbed, but robbed nonetheless.

Reaching the end of that alley, Bakura tugged at Atem's arm again, this time turning to the left instead of into oncoming traffic. Atem slowed his pace to match Bakura's. They were now walking instead of running in an attempt to blend into the near-constant stream of people. Judging by attire, most of them were middle and high school students walking home from school. Atem sighed in between gasps for breath he so sorely needed after that harrowing sprint. He didn't see Yuugi anywhere amongst them. Or Jounouchi, for that matter. Or Honda, Anzu, or Bakura's former 'host' Ryou. He suddenly felt immensely lonely for the first time in over a year. When he had crossed over to the afterlife, he had found himself amongst friends and family members he hadn't seen in thousands of years, and had little time for loneliness with all the pleasures of a king's afterlife at his disposal. But now, in the world of the living again, companioned by a young man who had been intent on killing him at one point - and probably still was, and was only abstaining from doing so due to divine intervention - and with no shelter or food, he found himself missing his existence as Yuugi's other half very dearly. He hadn't had any need for food or sleep (though he indulged in the latter at times) when he was nothing but a spirit, and was never truly alone. He wasn't alone, but he might as well have been. The thief's presence was doing nothing to ease his mind. Bakura made him uncomfortable, and the sentiment seemed mutual. When the two of them did talk, which wasn't often at all, sentences were short, clipped, and to the point.

Bakura spun on one heel, turning into one of the many small parks that dotted the city. Atem followed wordlessly and watched the thief plop himself into one of the swings. He seemed absolutely unfazed by the events that had just unfolded, but then again, this routine was probably habit to Bakura. Well, minus the cars, of course. Atem sighed again and leaned against one of the steel pipes that supported the horizontal pipe the swings were suspended on. He glanced over at Bakura, expecting to see him gleefully taking tally of whatever he had procured. Oddly enough, the thief was leaning forward in the swing, arms held a bit over his head and gripping the chains, staring into space. His hair rustled, more from the light breeze that was blowing through with the scent of rain on it than from the gentle swinging movement he was creating by kicking his legs back and forth every now and again. He looked rather forlorn like that. Atem was briefly reminded of some of the more romantic movies and series that Yuugi and his friends watched sometimes. It seemed like one character or another always had a sad moment in a swing at the park. Of course, Atem wasn't about to entertain the notion that Bakura was angsting over something like being spurned by a woman.

'_Maybe he mises Bakura-kun like I miss Yuugi?_' he wondered. It was unlikely, given Bakura's personality, but it wasn't impossible.

They were in a strange and awkward situation indeed. The Neter had more or less dropped the two of them off at some random point in Domino after briefly explaining that they - yes, they, not just Atem - had left one thing or another unfinished on Earth, and the delicate balance of power between light and darkness was in peril as a result. Anubis had been rather sketchy on the details, as he was preoccupied with his laptop. It seemed that the guardian of the afterlife and judge of souls spent an awful lot of time online since the system's invention. Atem couldn't blame him. He'd go looking for some sort of escape if he had to spend day after day slogging through so many recently dead folk. He had mentioned, however, that he would get back to them with more details as soon as they became available to him, and that they should try to find their other halves in the meantime. Atem had been somewhat annoyed to find that the gods he had revered his entire life were not only slightly on the daft side, but also rather disorganised when it came to communication. Ra would tell Osiris about one thing or another because he was too busy to go tell everyone himself, then Osiris would tell someone else to relay it because he was either too busy running the afterlife or blessing one of the many things he got prayers for the blessing of daily, and the information just became more and more lost from there. At least that was how Anubis had put it, minus the rampant netspeak. This bit of information, thankfully, had been of enough importance that it had only gone through four carriers before it reached Atem and Bakura. Neith, who had brought the news to Anubis, had even offered to follow the two of them to make sure that 'everything got taken care of'. Anubis explained that he had waved her off, though, considering she had so many godly things to attend to and was 'just in it to bash some heads'. This was to be their task anyway.

The benevolent dieties had gifted them both with a set of clothing far less conspicuous than what they wore in the afterlife. Atem had been given a 'light' version of the buckle-laden outfit he had worn as Yuugi's other. A tight-fitting black shirt with no sleeves, black jeans that were only slightly baggier than the leather pants he used to wear, and a collar just like he had had before. His shoes were plain, black hightop sneakers. Bakura had been given a red hooded sweatshirt with thick white piping around the wrists that was in obvious parody of the coat he was accustomed to wearing, a pair of distressed (read: half-ruined for the sake of fashion) blue jeans, and sneakers in the same style Ryou used to wear. Whichever Neter was in charge of choosing their outfits seem to think it funny to have at least one exact copy of something they used to wear. Atem brought a hand up to his collar unconsciously. He missed Yuugi again.

Bakura was actually swinging now, bringing his legs as far back as he could, then kicking them forward. The hood of his sweatshirt slipped back all the way on one trip up, revealing his tousled white hair and the rest of his scarred face. If Atem hadn't known Bakura the way he did, he would have inwardly described him as a tragic, strange-looking young man. But he knew what he knew, and he refused to describe Bakura as tragic. If he hadn't tried to kill him, if he hadn't caused so much mayhem and destroyed so many lives for the sake of revenge, then he would be tragic; then he would be pitiable. All Atem felt for Bakura was disgust occasionally punctuated by fear and the urge to brutally pummel him.

The thief dragged his feet on the ground, stirring up a cloud of dust and bringing himself to halt. He chuckled throatily and glanced over at Atem, a condescending sneer plastered on his previously serene face.

"If you hate me so much, pharaoh, why do you put up with being forced to work with me?"

Atem flinched. Had Bakura just read his thoughts? No, that was a stupid notion. His distaste for the young man was obvious enough without telepathy. The question was just random and meant to rile him.

"If the fate of the world is important, I guess I'll do anything," he answered. "And who says no to the gods, might I ask?"

Another chuckle, less contained this time. This was becoming somewhat unnerving.

"I knew it. I knew that was roughly what you would say," he said, chortling in a gleeful way. "You've got some fucking nerve, saying you'll do anything for the sake of this world."

Atem snarled. So this was going to come down to a matter of whose priorities were in the right order? Fine, he could play that way too.

"I'm not the one who dedicated his life to killing someone who wasn't even deserving, and ultimately ended up assisting the person who was truly at fault."

Ah, success. Atem's chest puffed up slightly as Bakura seemed to sink into the swing. He looked quite crestfallen for an instant. Bakura's eyes flashed fire after that, and he spat his words like poison.

"You shut the hell up. Just shut up and let's go find some food before I get too pissed off and hungry to refrain from killing you."

Atem almost felt guilty. He had gone for the lowest possible level in order to win quickly, and that bothered him a little. He wasn't going to apologise, of course.

"Fine, let's go," he said as he pushed off from the pipe he was resting against. "But how do you know you got enough money for food?"

Bakura jumped out of the swing and dusted off his rear end. Atem snickered inwardly, finding it absolutely hysterical for some reason.

"I _was _going to get us some free food, but since you asked and it's no surprise now. I'll count the money."

There was a soft chinkling as the thief dug around in one pocket for every bit of change he had pilfered. Atem was thankful that Bakura had retained some knowledge of the Japanese system of money from 'living' with Ryou, but the counting out loud was sort of annoying.

"Four hundred and five. What does that get us?"

Atem thought on that for a moment. It had been over a year since he had been shopping with Yuugi.

"Two canned drinks, two random snacks from a vending machine, and a wish in a fountain."

"You're hilarious, pharaoh," Bakura muttered as he returned the change to the safety of his pocket. "I have a feeling I'd meet with some sort of divine retribution if I didn't give you an equal share, so I won't bother arguing about portions. One drink and one snack thing for each of us."

Atem gave no reply. He didn't agree or disagree with the plan, as he wasn't really hungry at the moment. Bakura had surprised him with his 'generosity', but Atem would have been no better and no worse if Bakura had taken all the food for himself. Granted, he would have been annoyed, but he was confident that they were close enough to Yuugi's home that eating could wait until they arrived. The little park did look somewhat familiar. If only he could remember which direction would take them to the game shop.

There was a soft crunching sound as Bakura made his way back to the street, his feet bending and snapping countless dried blades of grass. The scent of the air still promised rain, and it seemed that the park hadn't seen any in some time. Atem tilted his head up to the sky. Sure enough, thick clouds of a deep grey were rolling across the sky, laden with water. Now more than ever he hoped that they were close to a Yuugi's house or the apartment complex Ryou lived in. The previous night had been spent under a bridge, which was obviously uncomfortable. Atem had scarcely slept for fear of rolling into the water in his sleep, or being killed by his 'partner'. It had been an awful night, and that was when it had been dry.

"Oi, pharaoh! Are you going to admire the clouds all evening, or can we go find some food?" Bakura sneered from the park's entrance.

Two young boys dashed in from the street, and each scrambled into a swing. A harried old woman followed after them, giving Bakura a sour look as she did so. Atem was stunned that Bakura didn't jump away from them as if they were poisonous snakes. He did flip the old woman off once her back was turned, though.

"Right, I'm coming, be patient," Atem snapped as he sprinted the short distance to Bakura. He looked back at the old woman and the kids as they walked away. She looked mildly relieved. Perhaps their clothes weren't as nondescript as they had thought.

Being as the Neter, in all their benevolence and obvious daftness, had dropped the two of them off at a partially random location they claimed was somewhere in Domino-cho, finding a series of vending machines wasn't nearly as difficult as it would have been if the location had been entirely random. Atem didn't like the idea of being plopped down in the middle of the Swiss Alps one bit.

Outside a convenience store, a battalion of vending machines, all in a row, stood silent guard over the sliding doors. Cigarettes, snack foods, packets of instant noodles, hot and cold drinks; all of these were available for purchase. Atem twitched a bit at the vast selection. He didn't exactly trust Bakura with the selection of his food, and presented his open palm to the thief. Bakura regarded it with a suspicious glare.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Give me my two hundred, and I'll get what I want. Simple enough?"

"What? You think I'm going to buy porn and cigarettes with our food money?" Bakura asked looking genuinely offended.

"No, I suspect you to have crappy tastes in food, so I'd rather choose my own."

Atem made a grab for Bakura's side pocket and the older boy jumped back.

"Hey, we're on the same level right now. As long as we're both homeless rejects you have to treat me with some respect. Say 'please' before you start trying to take money I earned."

The sides of the thief's mouth turned up in a gleeful grin. Atem wouldn't have minded asking politely if it had been anyone else. Why? Why couldn't he have been sent down here with someone else? Why not Kalim or Mahaado? Why not Isis? Hell, why not his _father_? The fact that it hadn't been explained why he was stuck with Bakura only made him feel worse. But, for now, he had to make sacrifices. He sighed melodramatically and presented his hand again.

"Please," he said just clearly enough for Bakura to understand him.

Bakura's grin widened and he snickered. Atem was now convinced that he got off, in some small way, on humilating his superiors.

"Please what?"

"What do you mean 'please what'?" the smaller boy asked. "I asked you nicely, now give it to me!"

"Say 'Please give me my money, Bakura-sama' and I'll give it to you," he said. It was obvious that he was having far too much fun with this.

"Don't push your luck, Bakura."

Bakura chortled and poked the spot on Atem's chest where the Puzzle would have been before the Items were destroyed.

"Push my luck? What are you going to do if I push my luck? I'm bigger and you've got no magical assistance. We're just homeless bums. Now make with the respect."

Where was a divine smiting when Atem needed one? It didn't seem fair that the gods would allow Bakura to humiliate the pharaoh this way. Then again, the gods had surprised him more than once in the last couple of days.

"Please give me my money, Bakura-sama," Atem said, twitching slightly. It didn't matter as long as he didn't mean it, right? Right?

The taller boy started snickering before finally breaking into a mad cackle, then plinked two one hundred yen coins into Atem's hand. Atem retracted his hand sharply after receiving the coins and put forth the other, middle finger exposed.

"There's your respect," he hissed before strutting over to the cheaper machines. Bakura only hee-heeeed behind him.

Most of the one hundred yen food was either tiny or unprepared, and included large packs of chewing gum and instant ramen packets. Atem was in no mood to eat uncooked ramen, and even more unwilling to _eat_ an entire pack of gum. So, he thought for a moment, eyes scanning the other machines all the while. He caught sight of a cheap hot coffee machine, and had made up his mind. He fed a coin into the ramen machine first; it was best if the coffee was as hot as possible. The flavour he chose was random, seeing as he would be tossing the seasoning packet out anyway. Bakura tapped his foot and sighed dramatically behind him. It was apparent that he, too, had decided that ramen was his best bet. Well, tough noogies for him. Atem was going to take his time, especially after that damned tomb robber had forced him to embarass himself. After a few seconds of grinding and whirring, the machine expelled a packet of instant pork ramen, minus the pork. Atem grabbed it up and approached the coffee machine. His choice wasn't random this time around, since it actually mattered what kind of coffee one used. If he remembered correctly, Jounouchi had recommended the weakest mix of coffee in the machine when teaching Yuugi to do this. He depressed the button for the weakest blend with the least sugar. Jounouchi hadn't mentioned the sugar content, but something told Atem that sugar wouldn't help the mixture very much at all. With his coffee dispensed, he set the hot can on one of the shorter, toy-dispensing machines and cautiously opened one end of the ramen packet. That done, he held it in one hand, opened the coffee with the other, then slowly poured most of the steaming brew into the ramen packet. When the noodles were more or less submerged in the liquid, he set the coffee down again, and folded the end of the packet closed. It would take about three minutes for the noodles to cook.

Bakura strolled over to him, contentedly crunching on a square of uncooked ramen.

"What in the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Making ramen," Atem announced proudly, giving the plump packet a light slap.

"That's going to taste like ass, you know."

The pharaoh scowled and gave Bakura a good glaring. His way had to be far better than just munching on it out of the packet like Bakura was doing.

"It is not! Jounouchi taught me how to do this."

"You mean he taught Yuugi. You only got any time outside when there was dueling afoot, from what I saw."

Atem twitched. Well, he had thrown a low blow at Bakura earlier, and it was only fair that he get his in, right? Still, even now it was difficult to determine where his own memories ended and those he had shared with Yuugi began. After all, in the beginning, just after he had been released from the Puzzle, he hadn't had any memories at all, and not much of a personality. He lived for Yuugi, the one who had released him. Yuugi and the people who first became Yuugi's friends, and then his own. In many ways, they both owed eachother something.

"He said, one time, that he would give me all his own memories if he could," Atem murmured as he gave his little ramen packet a shake to distribute the liquid some.

"What's that, now?" Bakura asked, one brow raising inquisitively. "Don't tell me you're waxing sentimental already. Isn't the fate of the world a bit too important to take the back seat to your angsting?"

Atem's grip on the ramen packet tightened, and he contemplated tossing the hot noodle bag in Bakura's smirking face. Why Bakura seemed so eager to initiate an argument was beyond him. This crack at his sentimental behavior coming from a man who had dedicated at least ten years of his life to the romantic notion of retribution. He couldn't possibly have done something so major if he had no sentimental inclinations.

"Again, I say that you're one to talk. I'm no more angsty than you. How long did you nurse those plans for vengeance? Ten years, maybe more?

The taller boy chuckled and tweaked Atem in the ear.

"And I say again that you've got plenty of nerve, pharaoh. How many more times are you going to bring that up, eh? it's already old, and I'm already over what happened."

"What happened? Does that mean you're over trying to kill me, or that you're over being used like you were?"

Placing his hands on his hips, Atem smirked mentally. He was quite content with his retort, and there was nothing Bakura could do to deflate his ego now.

Bakura shrugged, turned around, and began walking away.

"Where do you think you're going?" Atem demanded.

"I can't stand around all day while you brew ass-tasting noodles and angst," Bakura replied, taking another bite of his ramen square.

Atem grabbed his cooling coffee and followed, walking quickly to close the distance Bakura's longer strides had helped create. The smell of rain in the air was growing stronger, and Atem suddenly understood his companion's haste. The sooner they found either one of their other halves the better. He took a sip of his coffee as they walked, and looked around, hopeful that he would see someone he recognised. Through the thinning crowd, across the street, he thought he saw a familiar face. It had been a while, granted, but he could still recognise the blond hair, glasses, and short stature. Could it be? It had to be. Atem sprinted across the street, making sure to mind the traffic as best he could without losing sight of the boy. A great burst of vulgarity rang out behind him as Bakura chased after him. Maybe it would have been a better idea to tell him before taking off into the street. Oh well.

"Hanasaki-kun!" he called out, running short of breath from the sprint. He was suddenly very aware of the low stamina that came with his small size. He panted for a moment when he reached the boy, who had paused when he heard his name. Atem's heart had upped its tempo a good bit at the prospect of a familiar face. "Hanasaki-kun! I know this is going to sound strange, but I need directions to the game shop."

Hanasaki stared at him. Large eyes blinked behind thick lenses, one eyebrow arching in confusion. It was then that Bakura made his way across the street. He stood next to Atem, panting and shaking a fist at a speeding truck.

"I... I have to go, now. Bye," Hanasaki stammered as he turned and walked off.

Atem made a quiet squeaking in the back of his throat as the awful truth began to sink in. Hanasaki didn't recognise him. He had only treated him like Yuugi back then because he had been using Yuugi's body at the time.

"I fucking told you so," Bakura huffed. " I told you that you need to learn to distinguish between yourself and that former host of yours."

The former pharaoh snarled and glowered up at Bakura. He had had just about enough of the thief's jabs. He tightened his grip on his packet of ramen. The noodles were definately cooked by now, and the liquid was cooling. It would be ruined if he didn't eat it soon. Bakura 'tch'ed and flicked him in the forehead. That did it.

"Shut up, you ass!"

Atem swung a balled fist at Bakura, fully intent on breaking either Bakura's jaw, or his own hand in the attempt. Too late, he realised which hand he was using to fight. There was the sound of something bursting, then a sick splatting. Bakura looked far from pleased. Though unfazed by Atem's punch, save for a slowly reddening blotch on one side of his face, he had other things to be upset about. Being drenched in cold coffee, and having soggy noodles draped all over his head, for example. He pulled one of the longer noodles from behind his ear, glanced at it for a moment, and tossed it onto the ground. Bakura gave Atem a light shove, and walked past him, 'tch'ing again.

"Goodbye, pharaoh," he said flatly.

Thunder rumbled above. Atem blinked as one of the first droplets of cool rain landed on his shoulder. Two more followed.

"Where do you think you're going? Don't act like you didn't deserve that just now!"

"I'm going home. Don't try to follow me, pharaoh."

"You'll get yourself drenched, you know."

Bakura paused for a moment to remove the remaining noodles from his head and shoulder.

"I know, but do you think I care? Now fuck off before I return your little favor."

"Fine," Atem snapped, turning a corner for the sole purpose of taking a different path than Bakura. "Catch pneumonia for all I care."


	2. Enter the Ruiner

**Author's Notes: **I do not own Yuugiou. Seriously, if I did, no bear trap. I don't care if you get that; what matters is that I get it.

Before I start this chapter, I'd like to thank Mistress Minako and Amiasha Ruri for being so supportive of this WTF-fest. I'd also liked to thank Minako for writing that summary for this fic.

You may notice that the chapter lengths in this fic vary greatly from one another. I think it's the recurring character switch that does it.

**Sesen Chapter Two: Enter the Ruiner**

So the 'mission' wasn't turning out so well. Bakura didn't care. The rain may not have helped much, but at least he was able to work alone again. He had never been much for cooperation of any sort. The fact that he had been forced to work with Atem only made it worse.

The hood on his sweatshirt wasn't much help against the rain. Since the pharaoh and he had split up twenty minutes ago, the sparse drops of rain had become a pouring deluge. His hood was now essentially a wet rag wrapped partly around his head. He didn't bother to pull it off out of an old habit of hiding his face. He wasn't feeling particularly alert, either. Not like he usually was. He was too busy becoming lost in his own thoughts, so he didn't care to bother with a damp head. Bakura didn't want the rain falling directly on his head, anyway. The air around him had been cool already, and he didn't like the idea of cool water trickling down his back and into his shirt.

At least he hadn't been divinely smote for abandoning his partner. They would have ended up splitting eventually, anyway. That must have been why. Either that or the gods were even lazier than they had made themselves out to be. The fact that the Neter were quirky dorks had certainly hit Atem with the force of a divinely-blessed hand grenade. The thought of his expression when he saw Anubis tapping away at a laptop while Set tried to snatch his cordless mouse away still brought a grin to Bakura's face.

Bakura would have thought that the gods would have more strained relations with Set, but they seemed almost casual about him. For the most part, that is. Isis, utilising the technological advances of the past few hundred years, had more than once left in a huff to return with a shotgun and blasted the offending god's head from his shoulders. Of course, being a divine being, he revived from the dead after a greatly varying period of time. Bakura began to chuckle as a thought came into his mind. After a few moments, unable to contain his amusement at the sheer absurdity of the thought, he tossed his head back and cackled in a mad way. The hood of his shirt fell back and allowed the rain to trickle down into his shirt. Drops slithered down his back and reminded him briefly of cold fingers, but he didn't care. He had found something to be amused with, and was going to enjoy a good laugh. Maybe he would be back to feeling like his old self sooner than he had thought. Of course, that didn't last long before a plump, diminutive salaryman stopped, glanced at him oddly, and asked what was so funny. The thief snerked and grinned widely as he answered.

"The gods are like freaking cartoon characters," He said as flatly as he could before his words dissolved into giggling and snickering.

The man muttered something about young people getting stranger and stranger as he walked away. In his brown suit, and with his deep red umbrella, he reminded Bakura vaguely of a fat little mushroom. Wasn't there a video game that his host had liked in which the object was to stomp the fat little mushrooms? He snorted at the notion of the puny man being flattened to the width of a paper plate by a single stomp. This kind of thinking just wasn't right for him. He was unduly giddy despite his situation. That didn't matter, though. If he was happy, why bother arguing with it? It had been a long time since he had been this giggly without someone else suffering first. Not that the suffering wouldn't greatly improve the experience. His first priority was finding his home. Or rather, the place that would serve as his home until his work was finished. His surroundings were becoming more and more familiar, which was obviously an excellent sign.

He would be home in no time at all, but something seemed strange, and certainly not in a wholesome way. The world had a glassy appearence to it; like anything he touched would be slippery. He could remember seeing this way once. He had taken control of his host's body with intent to feed it after the boy had lain in bed for far too long. His host explained after control was returned to him that that was how the world looks when one has a high fever. Bakura didn't feel ill at all, but he brought a hand up to his face to make certain. To his relief, his temperature was not one degree above normal, if his hand was anything to go by. He would have been infuriated if he had gotten himself sick like the pharaoh had more or less said he would. It was then that he became aware of an odd smell on the air. It was unsettling to smell something strange, but doubly so given what Bakura recognised the queer mixture of scents as. Most obvious was the smell of electricity; the subtle odor that fills a room when a live wire of significant voltage is exposed. The less potent smell was, of all the ghastly things to randomly smell in Tokyo, dead flesh. Bakura hissed and moved his hand to cover his nose and mouth. Whatever had died, it hadn't died any sooner than the morning before. And it had to have been a big dead thing. The stink of meat just beginning to decay seemed to surround him. No one else in the crowded street seemed to take any notice of the stench.

The malodor of electric corpse intensified as the world brightened before Bakura's eyes. Color drained away from his surroundings, and the city came to resemble a severely ditressed monochrome photograph. Bakura stared ahead, his hand still clamped over half his face as his knees began to shake. It felt like his body was being compressed, and he was quickly running out of breath. He managed to gulp down a few shaky breaths against the mounting pressure on his ribcage. Something compelled him to turn his head left; to search something out on the other side of the street. He found it with little difficulty. The only darkly colored feature in the white-washed landscape. A figure that seemed to be robed in black clouds, staring back across the street with two points of red light where, in Bakura's experience, a person's eyes usually were. Those eyes, of no particularly sinister shape, and more or less resembling a pair of lighted VCR buttons in a dark room, were the most genuinely frightening things Bakura had seen in quite some time.

The figure turned away from him, and Bakura felt the awful pressure moving away from his body. The world disappeared into blackness, and he felt himself topple backward onto the pavement. He must not have been unconscious for long, if he had been unconscious at all, because his backside was still smarting when he opened his eyes. What had just happened? Was he losing whatever mind he had left, or had he had a brief encounter with something sinister? If the latter were true, it felt strange to be on the opposite side of the equation. He sat up to examine himself. Aside from being out of breath and startled out of his senses, he seems to be perfectly well. He had also attracted quite a crowd, it seemed. Gawkers and do-gooders of all kinds babbled around him.

"Look, he's already come around," piped a small woman of around thirty.

"Help 'im up, then!" said an impatient young voice from behind Bakura.

"You idiot, we need to call an ambulance. The boy's just had a seizure, for God's sake!" an older gentleman said as he reached into his bag for his cellphone.

"Don't be hasty," another woman said. "I know seizures, and that was no seizure. My nephew has epilepsy, so I should know."

"Then what do you think it was? What do I tell the hospital?" the man asked, seeming a bit more open to suggestion now.

Bakura got to his feet with only slight wobbling and staggering, and walked off in what he believed was the direction of his home. He vaguely heard the woman reply that he may be mentally disturbed. He broke into the best run he could muster on a body that was partially deprived of oxygen before any of them could chase him down and force him to put up with their kindness. Deep down he hoped that he was running in the opposite direction of that thing with the shining eyes.

It was still raining when Bakura reached the apartment building. He was sopping wet, his lungs were stressed despite resting once or twice along the way, and was getting hungry again. Yes, Bakura was very grateful to have made it to his destination. He was also grateful that he had not encountered that thing again. Now he had to worry about convincing his old host to accept him into his home. Bakura figured that this would be far easier in theory than it would in practice.


	3. Coming Home Again

**Author's Notes**: And so my expirament is winding down. I originally startedp osting this as an expirament, y'see. I do that an awful lot, these internet expiraments. One involved Anime Spiral. Suffice to say, I do not go there anymore. Feelings were hurt, and I am not sorry.

My goal for this expirament was to one review (ONE!) from a person that I do not know personally before the end of the week. However, I will not discontinue this, no matter how the expirament failed. I have been added to favorites and watchlists, and while the adders did not review, I still appreciate the interest. I will not resort to changing the summary to "A NEW GURL COMES 2 TOWN N CHAOS INSUES PLZ REVIEW! 3 REVEIWS 4 LEMIN! " in order to get reviews. That's not how I roll.

Thanks for your continued (though passive) support. Here's chapter three. Short because the events described herein are rather brief.

**Sesen chapter 3: Coming Home Again**

Atem whined pitifully as the pangs in his stomach worsened. Having existed as a spirit with no body to feed for three thousand years, then settling into a cushy afterlife, he was somewhat unaccustomed to being truly hungry. He had been wandering around in the rain for at least a half hour, and was beginning to regret bursting his uneaten lunch all over Bakura's head. He also regretted parting ways with the thief. He was useful, regardles of how boundlessly irritating he could be.

Nothing looked familiar in the least, but Atem wasn't going to let that panic him. He had probably seen at least half of Domino during Battle City; it was just taking time for him to remeber what was where and what it was near. He could always ask for directions, but that hadn't gone over well the last time he had tried it. Still, it couldn't do any harm to try. He walked up to a woman leaning against one of the capsule toy vending machines under the awning of a coffee shop. It was nice to be away from the rain, even for less than a minute.

"Excuse me," Atem said, trying to be as polite and demure as possible so as not to frighten the woman away with his odd appearance and odder mode of dress. "Do you know where the Kame Game shop is? Please?"

The woman gave him a thorough looking over before she replied. Atem did the same to her. She looked to be about twenty five, maybe a little older. Her black hair was cut short and streaked, and she was dressed in an equally unusual manner.

"Well, aren't you just a perfect little doll? I can't say that I do, but can I ask you a question?"

"Er, All right," Atem said, quirking an eyebrow. He hadn't expected her to actually strike up a conversation or anything.

"Where do you go? For clubbing and fun, I mean."

"Clu... Fun? What does that have to do with anything?"

The woman reached out one black-gloved hand and placed her index finger squarely on the buckle of Atem's collar.

"That's what it has to do with. Pretty ballsy wearing it out in public, being as young as you are. I don't see any rings or tags attached, either. Would it be presumptuous of me to say that you're free game?"

She said the last with a smirk that gave Atem a slight chill. The unsettling connotations of what she had said earlier were beginning to sink in. He brought a hand up to his collar and felt his face grow hot.

"No. I mean yes. I mean that I have to go now," he sputtered, rushing past the woman. She only giggled and waved goodbye to him. He suddenly understood, in some way, how Hanasaki must have felt when Atem had accosted him earlier.

An umbrella would have been nice, but the rain was beginning to let off just a bit. It was still quite dark, though. He had seen high schoolers walking home over an hour ago, so it had to be at least five o'clock.

He pressed on slowly, hunger and the seemingly inescapable bleakness of his situation making the fatigue he was feeling seem much greater. His legs ached from walking in the cold rain, and he was tired and hungry. There was no denying it; he wasn't made for travelling like this. Being so small and thin, he got cold easily, and his shorter legs also made it difficult. He just wanted to be home, warm and able to eat and sleep after he explained this bizarre situation to Yuugi and Jiichan. The rain had begun to left off a bit, but he was still hopelessly drenched. He shivered and rubbed his arms vigorously as a light wind blew past him. Why hadn't the gods given him a jacket or some food? Hell, why hadn't they dropped him off at home?

'_Because they're a bunch of dimwits with twisted senses of humor,' _he thought bitterly as he rubbed his arms again.

Something caught his attention in the corner of his eye. A flash of pink light down a side street. He turned quickly to investigate it, and his wet bangs slapped him lightly in the face. The word 'game' spelled out on a pink, lighted sign. Home! Without a second thought, he bolted as quickly as he could toward the sign, taking back any and all cruel or depreciating things he had said about the Neter. His shoes squeaked on the wet pavement, and he nearly stumbled on the shop's steps.

Atem grabbed the doorknob hesitantly and looked through the door's many panes of glass. The lights were still on in the shop, but there wasn't anyone downstairs. Yuugi and Jiichan were probably upstairs eating dinner or counting the day's till. He stood there for a long moment, gathering his courage. For the first time in over a year, he felt like he had come home, which was backward enough without simultaneously feeling like a total outsider. What if they didn't recognise him, like Hanasaki hadn't?

That was an awful thing to think, and Atem berated himself for it. He opened the door slowly and stepped in. Warmer air from inside the shop seemed to rush at him and heat his chilled body slightly, carrying various food smells with it. His stomach grumbled, but he ignored it in favor of briefly investigating the shop and enjoying the warm air.

The shop was essentially the same as he remembered it, save for a few new games. Atem briefly entertained notions of learning how to play them, and even playing Duel Monsters again, though it was unlikely he would have the time to do either. This would most likely be just like his last quest. He'd accomplish his goal, then be on his merry way to the afterlife. It confused him that he could go through so much trouble and drag so many others along with him for the sake of regaining his memories, then find himself longing to return to this place again. Perhaps he would have been happier knowing who he was and continuing to live normally. Probably. Pushing the conflicting emotions down for the time being, he busied himself with a game display by the door. He could still hope to be able to play with Yuugi and the others before having to leave again.

There was a creaking on the stairs behind him. Atem froze in place, unable to decide how to react. Hopefully he hadn't been mistaken for a robber.

"Mo... Atem? Is that you?" a familiar voice asked. Atem turned in time to see his partner taking the stairs two at a time and dashing over to him. He was stunned when he realised that the boy had grown to stand almost a head taller than him in the past year.

"Aibou!" Atem shouted, all his anxiety draining away at the sight of the boy. He turned fully to face Yuugi, and gasped in mild shock as the taller boy collided with him and pulled him into a tight hug.

"It is you," Yuugi managed between spurts of ecstatic laughter. "I missed you!"

Yuugi held him snugly, and Atem patted him on the back.

"I missed you too, Yuugi."

Atem's vision was beginning to fog up, and he couldn't care less. He had never felt connected to anyone like he felt connected to Yuugi. Even now, he didn't feel any shame about getting teary around him.

"Oi, Yuugi! Was anyone down here, or-? Holy shit! Everybody, get in here and see this!"

The energetic statement was followed by the sound of two sets of feet tramping down the stairs. Atem didn't even have to look up to be certain who was coming downstairs. Jounouchi and Honda were down shortly. The blond pratically tackled Atem and Yuugi, while Honda only stood by and sniveled as stoicly as he could. Anzu and Jiichan followed, Anzu letting out a squeal before rushing down to hug Atem, and Jiichan doing essentially the same thing.

This was the way he had wanted to be; surrounded by life and love. At that moment, he would take this life over his regal afterlife without a second thought. Silently, burying his face into Yuugi's shoulder to cry out all the fatigue and anxiety of the past two days, he prayed.

'_Please, please let me stay like this. Don't make me leave again. Please.'_


	4. Unwelcome

**Author's Notes:** Ah, so the expirament is a success. Thank you all. There are a few bases I'd like to cover before continuing.

Firstly, I'd like it if you reserved any responses to my reviews of your fanfiction (or your friend/acquaintance/spouse's fanfiction for emails instead of reviews of my fics. If I recall correctly, treating the review system like a message board is against the TOS.

That said, I'd like to say that this chapter is by far my least favorite. It went through a lot of tweaking before it was acceptable, and there are still spots where it displeases me. I've always had trouble with Bakura-kun's character, but I feel that this chapter makes that especially obvious.

**Sesen Chapter Four: Unwelcome**

"The apartment was on the sixth floor, I know that..."

Bakura muttered and gave his head another shake, spattering rain water on a passing couple. The woman made a meeping sound as the man ushered her away and shot Bakura a dirty look. He couldn't exactly blame them, considering just how strange he looked.

"Creepy foreigners..." he heard the man mutter.

"Your mother didn't say I was so creepy last night!" Bakura spat back, using his best and most vulgar Japanese skills.

The man spun around, rage and disgust showing clearly in his face. His petite girlfriend meeped again. Bakura practically licked his lips when the man shook his fist and took a few stomps toward him. He was a moderately big guy; well-built and a few inches taller than Bakura, with a nose that had been broken and reset at least once. The thief wasn't worried, however. The man was well-dressed and showed no signs of any fighting experience aside from his well-worn nose. He could drop this guy like a cinder block now that he had his old body instead of that willowy host body.

"What's that supposed to mean, you?" he demanded, taking another step toward Bakura.

"Hide, please don't!" the woman said. "You promised me you wouldn't pick any more fights." He waved her off.

Bakura shifted his weight for better balance in case of a sudden bullrush. This guy struck Bakura as more of a hot headed asshole than an experienced fighter, but that meant he was more likely to do something rash and over the top. He didn't want to be humiliated by getting himself knocked on his ass by this moron.

"Well? Explain yourself!" the man, Hide, demanded again. His arm-candy had already abandoned any hopes of cooling him down.

"I mean whatever you think I mean. You're so smart that you should be able to figure it out."

Hide took two more stomps toward Bakura to bring him within arm's length. Bakura's pulse quickened a few beats. He hadn't handed out a proper beatdown in some time, and the opportunity to do so was making him almost giddy. A chance to test out his 'new' body, and knock a twit around? How could he not get excited?

"Listen, you stupid-looking prick," Hide said. "I don't know how things work... wherever you're from, but we respect people's poor old mothers around here."

Much to Bakura's surprise, Hide didn't move to strike him after he had finished speaking. He just stood there with that pitifully serious expression on his face.

"Well," Bakura said as he stepped to the side to walk around Hide. "I'll be going, if we're finished here."

Hide stepped in front of Bakura and crossed his arms over his chest wordlessly.

"All right, move aside," Bakura said as he stepped to the other side.

Again, Hide moved into his path.

"Stop screwing around, damn-"

"I cannot let you pass until you apologise."

"Listen, you stupid lummox, I've got important things to do, so get your sorry ass out of my way."

"You may not pass until you apologise."

"What? No! You insulted me first anyway."

"Then you leave me no choice," Hide said solemnly.

Something caught Bakura's attention as Hide raised his fist. A boy with fluffy white hair walking toward the scene, toting a sack of groceries and a dripping umbrella. The boy paused, panic showing briefly in his eyes before he hurried past them. Bakura knew now that he couldn't afford to waste any more time entertaining himself. His former host would have the door locked and bolted by the time he caught up if he bothered to fight this good properly. He would have to resort to alternative measures. With a swift kick, he introduced his cute little sneaker to Hide's crotch, and proceeded to take off after Ryou. He heard Hide go down behind him with a satisfying "Guuuueee".

"Hide! Get back here, you... you bad man!"

Bakura could only assume that that had been the love of Hide's life insisting, with the eloquence of a four year old, that he come back and face the man he had just brutally kicked in the two fruits. That was certainly out of the question, whether or not he had more pressing matters that needed tending. Resorting to the kick-them-and-run tactic usually didn't leave one with the option to go back and do much of anything.

"Wait, wait, wait! Just wait a damned minute and let me explain!" he called after the boy.

His former host was a lot quicker than Bakura gave him credit for. He was probably getting more excercise now that he could go out of the apartment without worrying about something awful happening to him or his friends. Bakura couldn't really blame him for taking off. He could have been far more selective with his targets; taking out only the people most central to his plan. Hell, his plan was essentially flawed and useless, come to think of it. Hindsight, he figured, is only so clear because you know a Hell of a lot more when looking back on something than you did when you actually did that something.

Ryou looked back over his shoulder, eyes flashing terror at the sight of Bakura closing in on him, and made a sharp turn to the left. Bakura noted the number on the door that Ryou had stopped in front of. Six hundred and one. Excellent. Now Ryou was rummaging in his pockets for a key, the shopping bags dropped and abandoned on the floor behind him. Bakura closed in swiftly, slamming a hand on both sides of the door, effectively trapping the smaller boy against the door. Ryou cringed, flattening himself against the door.

"Listen, you sniveling little worm," Bakura began, leaning down to face-level with the other boy. He softened his voice a bit, seeing Ryou cringe again. He wasn't going to get far acting like that. And there were possible smitings to be considered. He removed his hands from the doorframe in a silent gesture of trust. "Sorry. Sorry. Look, I don't come bearing tidings of death as usual, all right? I'm here for a very different reason, and I-"

"Just leave," Ryou interrupted, standing confidently now. Bakura's fluffier 'couterpart' glowered up at him with the kind of shaky determination one sees in a scrawny child finally finding the backbone to stand up to an older tormentor. Thinking too much again. "I'm stronger than I was when you left me. I won't let you hurt my friends anymore!"

Bakura threw his hands up in defeat and sighed. "It's not like that, damn it."

"Then what is it?" Ryou pressed. "Why are you back?"

"I know it's hard for you to understand, but I'm here to stop someone from... well, from doing a lot of the things I tried to do." He laughed, contemplating the expressions of whatever denizens of the apartment building heard his next statement through the thin walls. "The gods may be strange, but they don't do something like raising the dead for no good reason."

"How can you ask me to trust you after all you've done?" Ryou asked, his voice losing some of its confidence.

"I'm not asking you to trust me fully," Bakura explained as calmly as he could manage. "Just enough to let me sleep at your place for a while. That didn't come out right."

"What? You expect me to let you share living space with me? After you've all but killed anyone who would have anything to do with me? What the Hell is wrong with you?" Ryou stammered, the words coming full-force in a torrent of venting that, in Bakura's opinion, was long overdue. Bakura smiled as the uncharacteristic swear escaped his former host's mouth.

Bakura sighed. "Are you finished?" Ryou nodded, pouting slightly. "Good. What if I'm not lying? What if people, your friends included, are truly in danger and you're letting your grudge against me put them into further peril? Are you willing to take that risk? When I'm nothing more than some dickhead off the streets? The Ring's gone, remember?"

Ryou's knees weakened and he slid down into a heap against the door.

Bakura shrugged and began gathering up the spilled groceries. He could at least try to grease the wheels a little and be on good behavior. He tossed the ramen packets and cans of crab into the half-emptied shopping bag and handed it to Ryou. Ryou was... smiling at him? It was a sad sort of smile; the smile of a person who, while defeated, was determined to grin and bear it, making the best of what little they had.

"So... you've got no powers or anything?" he asked, still smiling. It was sort of an eerie smile, and made Bakura wonder if Ryou knew more than he was letting on.

"Like I said," Bakura said as he examined one of the cans of crab. Not the expensive kind, but dead seabugs were dead seabugs. "Just a dickhead off the street. I can bring forth the powers of darkness just as easily as you can will flowers to sprout from your ears."

Ryou laughed hollowly and gathered himself, standing upright again. "I don't want to trust you, but I don't have much of a choice, do I? At least explain what's going on."

Bakura paused from taking mental inventory of what he might be having for dinner that night. It wouldn't be wise to go babbling about the fate of the world in the hallway, lest he wanted to draw attention. There wasn't much wrong with looking slightly insane, but he couldn't bring himself to trust anyone who may have been listening. Walls have ears, as they say. Why was that giving him the stupidest mental image of walls covered in corn?

"I'll explain inside, if you don't mind. So. Ramen with crab?"

"What?"

"Isn't that what we're having for dinner?"

Ryou laughed and fidgeted nervously. "I was going to order out, but if you want me to cook..."

"No, no, no," Bakura said, following the other boy inside. "I'll eat part of what you'll be eating. Preferably the largest part you can spare."

The two slipped their shoes off almost in unison. Bakura wouldn't normally bother, but he couldn't help but be obliging. Whether or not he had this momentary truce with his former host, he wanted to be on his best behavior. He was on probation as far as he was concerned, and he didn't want to blow his chances. He had caused Ryou enough pain in his life that it wouldn't take that great a trespass to warrant throwing him out.

"Is Chinese food okay? I'm kind of partial to chicken skewers."

Bakura jumped a bit, the question rousing him from his musings.

"That's fine," he said as he made his way to the couch. He flopped onto it, trying his best to take up all the available space on it. "I'll sleep here."

"I do have an extra room, you know," Ryou informed him.

"Your father's room?" Bakura asked, somewhat befuddled. Ryou undoubtedly had issues with his father being away most of the time. Why would he be so willing to let someone like Bakura stay there?

"Sent back," Ryou said before taking a short pause. "So you've been to the afterlife?"

Bakura held up his palm to signal Ryou to stop talking.

"I know what you're going to ask, and the answer is no. The world beyond is absolutely enormous, and it's hard to find any one person without asking at least one nitwitted god for a favor. Believe me, I know."

"You know?"

"Yeah," Bakura said, nodding. " I tried to find some people I knew a long, long time ago. Apparently, they never made it to the afterlife. They're still wandering among the living."

And undeniably awkward silence followed.

"Oh... Well, there's an extra blanket in the closet of my bedroom, and I think I can spare a pillow. I'm going to go call for our food."

"Right. I'm going to go help myself to a hot shower, if you don't mind. And some dry clothes. You might want to flip the couch cushions, actually."


	5. Lies, Lies, Lies

**Author's notes:** This is one of many chapters of this fic in which the humor is more obvious than anything else. Again, I thank you for your reviews and humbly request that you review again sometime.

**Sesen chapter five: Lies, Lies, Lies**

So warm. So warm and so happy. Atem pulled his legs closer to his chest and settled further into his little cocoon. Shortly after he had arrived at Yuugi's house, he had been told to change into some of Yuugi's pajamas, then almost forcibly wrapped in the fluffiest blanket Yuugi could find, then sent to lounge on the couch. There wasn't much space to lounge in, considering he was sandwiched between Jounouchi and Yuugi. Anzu had gone home, and Honda was pacing around the room with Jiichan. The two of them were brainstorming ways to explain Atem away to Yuugi's mother once she got home from her go club meeting. So far, the ideas were less than convincing. He had already explained the situation to them, but the ideas they were coming up with were just about as believable.

"How about he's a foreign exchange student?" Honda ventured.

"Honda, our school doesn't even have a foreign exchange program," Jounouchi corrected sharply.

"Well, he doesn't have to be from our school."

"But how are you going to explain him never going to school?" Yuugi asked.

Suddenly, Jiichan stopped pacing and turned to face the group, grinning triumphantly.

"I've got it! Atem is my illegitimate son!"

The room was suddenly very silent indeed. Atem looked back and forth between Yuugi and Jounouchi. Jounouchi looked mildly amused, if shocked, but Yuugi... Yuugi just looked disturbed and dumbstruck. It wasn't such an awful idea, but Atem needed more information.

"But how does that work, Jiichan?" he asked, breaking the silence for everyone else.

"It's simple," Jiichan said, still grinning. "About sixteen years ago, I took my final trip to Egypt. Mostly for nostalgia, no tomb-exploring. All I have to do is explain that I had a fling with a beautiful Egyptian woman, and she concieved, and gave birth to you months after I left."

"And this explains why I'm here how?"

"You wanted to meet your father."

"Why? You'd think my mother would be ashamed to tell me about the man who knocked her up and left."

Jiichan paused a moment, then lit up with inspiration once more.

"She was! But you were so persistant in asking her about who your father was that she finally broke down and told you."

By now, everyone but Atem and Jiichan looked totally mortified.

"All right, but how are you going to prove who she was? Where I was born? No records."

"You, my boy, have never been to the more impoverished areas of Egypt. People are born, live, and die without ever going on paper. Hey, that's even better! A poor boy rising up from the slums to travel almost halfway around the world to meet the father he never knew!"

Atem nodded rapidly. It was sounding more and more plausible, but there were still some problems.

"Explain how I speak Japanese. And not in goofy broken sentences, either."

"Self-taught! Come on, tell me we can't pass you off as a genius."

This was sounding better and better. It was far-fetched, and it wasn't fool proofed, but it could work. Especially if Yuugi's mother had easily-plucked heartstrings. He decided to take one last look at his friends before going along with the story. As before, everyone looked generally mortified, save for Honda who appeared to be touched by Atem's invented past.

"All right, we'll try it."

Yuugi lurched forward in his seat and slapped himself on the forehead. This, obviously, was not what he had had in mind when he suggested brainstorming ways to explain Atem's presence. However, Jiichan seemed ecstatic, and hopped in place. Jounouchi could only manage a silent, stunned expression.

The doorbell jingled downstairs, which meant that either the shop had a late customer, or Yuugi's mother had come home from her club meeting early. Well, there went all chances of perfecting the story before they had to put on their little act. Atem curled up against Yuugi as Jiichan excused himself to go downstairs. Maybe he was going to break the news before she got up the stairs. Faintly, he could hear voices downstairs.

"Fujiko, there's someone I'd like you to meet."

"Huh? Let me guess. One of your old travelling friends."

The voices grew too low for Atem to hear, then:

"You what!"

"Please, just let me explain!"

There was stomping on the stairs, and Atem cringed. He didn't want to be thrown out, not yet at least. The irate woman emerged from downstairs with Jiichan tailing her.

"I can't believe you, going off on flings with me at home with Yuugi! What would you have done if-" Yuugi's mother paused when she caught sight of Atem coiled up on the couch. "Oh my god. He looks just like a little Yuugi."

Atem tried his best to look small and defenseless. He usually wouldn't go for pity, but this was a desperate situation.

"You expected differently?" Jiichan said, puffing his chest out in feigned pride.

"I... I don't know," the woman murmured, slowly approaching the couch. She crouched in front of Atem. "Hello. Do you speak Japanese?"

"Yes, I'm almost fluent," Atem stated proudly. "I taught myself so that I could come to Japan."

"But how on Earth did you afford to fly to Japan?"

Atem gloated inwardly, convinced that the ploy was working splendidly.

"I-"

"He went on dates with people for money," Yuugi stated matter of factly. Atem's eye twitched visibly, but he decided to roll with it.

"Yes," he affirmed, feigning a crack in his voice. "I'm still ashamed of it, but it was worth it."

Yuugi muttered and softly elbowed Atem. _'Haha, your plan for vengeance fell flat,' _Atem thought smugly.

"Dates? You mean...?"

"Life in the slums of Caiiro is hard. You do what you have to do to survive," Jiichan piped up. "Don't judge the boy."

The woman looked at Atem, shock and pity in her expression. By then, the entire room had become rather silent. Something told Atem that, perhaps, the sham had gone too far. He considered owning up to the truth, but the truth was harder to believe than the lie. Suddenly, Atem felt himself pulled into warm arms again. So many hugs...

"Where was your mother... God, you can't be any more than sixteen."

"My mother died when I was very young," Atem said after a short pause. It was true, even if it was out of context.

"You're staying with us. At least until you can take care of yourself, I mean."

"Wahoo!" Jounouchi bellowed, suddenly brought out of his stupor. "Atem can stay!"

Yuugi patted Atem on the back, apparently deciding to go along with the outrageous lies after all.

"I know he's technically my uncle, but I've always wanted a little brother."

All right, so maybe Yuugi was still going to make him slightly miserable for indulging Jiichan's scheme. He could live with that.


	6. Stuck Together Again

**Author's Notes:** Well, here's the next chapter. Again, it's rather short. I'm rather fond of fiction many, many short chapters. I feel that textbooks shuld be produced in such a manner. But I digress.

Much thanks to my one regular reviewer, who is also the only reviewer who didn't drive The Waaahbulance here. And much thanks to my friends for their continued support, especially Amiasha Ruri. She's been in on this trainwreck since it was just a plotbunny, and I thank her for it.

In this chapter, Bakura and his former host get some bonding done, the gods are discussed, and the king of thieves gets a good meal. Or rents it, at least. You'll see what I mean. Poor Bakura-kun hasn't had visitors other than Yuugi in so long that he's letting the thief stay. Ahem. Also, a slight warning of implied naughtiness.

**Sesen Chapter Six:** Stuck Together Again

The tomb robber practically purred with delight as he ripped another mouth full of chicken off of his skewer. To Bakura, this was an ideal situation, no matter what his mission was. He was warm, he was clean, and he could, in theory, eat until he was satisfied. He was conditioned to greatly appreciate being in this state, and to take advantage of it for as long as he possibly could. The two of them were seated on the floor while the couch cushions dried.

Bakura squirmed slightly. The clothes he had been offered left something to be desired. Ryou had been courteous enough to let him borrow one of his father's t-shirts, but didn't have any pants in his wardrobe or his father's, other than an old pair of boxer shorts, that he cared to part with. His pants were too tight, and not in the fun way. At least the shirt was long enough for any kind of modesty.

"Um..."

"Wha?" Bakura said through a mouthful of chicken.

"Don't put so much in your mouth at once," Ryou said, smiling softly. "You could choke. Besides, nobody's going to take it from you."

Okay, so he was also conditioned to make whatever food he had disappear as quickly as possible in order to have food at all. It wasn't like it was his fault. Nevertheless, he picked up a carton of lo mein noodles and a pair of chopsticks, and began eating daintily. As daintily as possible for a psychopathic former street urchin, that is.

"Happy, now?" Bakura mocked, slurping up a relatively long noodle. It slapped him directly in the eye, which got a laugh from his former host. Fine, let him laugh.

"Yes, that's fine. I have a question, though."

"Ask away," Bakura said, shrugging, more interested in finishing his meal than going into any great depth with his responses.

"If you've been to the afterlife... what's it like to be dead?"

Well, that was a fairly morbid question, but it was Ryou after all.

"For me? Boring. If you have no funeral goods and aren't in good standing with the gods, you live exactly as you did before. And the gods are freaking dorks."

Ryou laughed again, and Bakura thought he might choke on his food.

"How can the gods be dorks? Well, there was the whole Horus and Set thing..."

"Set's touchy about that. And Anubis is addicted to the internet. That was the biggest shock to me."

"So the Egyptian gods are the only ones?" Ryou asked, taking a sip of his drink.

"Of course not. The rest of them just don't show up in the Neter's area that often. The Christian God wandered in once, but I don't think he can handle being around gods other than himself. He left chanting 'it's all a lie' and covering his ears with his hands."

The other boy snickered loudly and set his glass down. He rose from his spot on the floor and started picking up empty cartons and cups.

"I've got some studying to do, so you can finish eating without me," he said.

Bakura slurped up the last noodle in the carton, managing to spare himself the indignity of an eye-whipping this time.

"If you insist," he said as he snatched up another skewer. "But could you stay signed on to your instant messenger for me?"

"Why's that?" Ryou asked, heading for the kitchen.

"I have a feeling that Anubis prefers IM conversation to godly appearances. If anyone unfamiliar messages you, let me know."

"Sure. You can go to sleep or watch TV if you want."

Bakura grabbed the couch cushions and set them back in place. Damp side down, of course. He flopped down on the couch as he had before, and went back to work on his skewer. It was far better, in his opinion, to stay awake a while longer. He wasn't quite tired yet, and he was still unnerved by the thing with the glowing eyes.

No. He had had enough thinking about that thing already. There had to be other subjects to ponder until he remembered where Ryou usually kept the remote control.

Ryou had changed rather noticeably. He was still timid compared to 'normal' people, but he seemed much more confident and quicker to laugh and smile. It would probably take more than the Ring's destruction to change the boy so drastically. He'd figure that Ryou's father had finally decided to spend most of his time at home, but Ryou probably wouldn't have been so willing to let strange people crash in the apartment if he had a parent to answer to for it. No, it was definately something else.

Explanations could wait until morning. Right now, he was more interested in occupying himself until he felt like going to sleep. He couldn't go out and find entertainment because he was awaiting divine instant messages, and there wasn't much to do in the apartment aside from eating and sleeping. It just wasn't right. Here he was, back from his dull afterlife as a thief only to be thrust into an even duller life of playing psuedo-phone tag with a deity. He idly scanned the room for the remote control and noticed his rectangular quarry protruding from beneath the armchair. Treating himself to a gloat, he got up and grabbed it.

News, news, idol singer, cartoons, game show, sports, cartoons again. Well, excellent, there was nothing worth watching.

"Fuck this. I'm gonna go create entertainment," he said resolutely as he headed off in a more or less random direction.

His search for entertaining things brought him to the bathroom door. There was always fun to be had in a room with lots of chemicals and what was essentially a great big mixing bowl, right? Right. He ducked in and began 'methodically' going through the medicine cabinet first. Pain killers, cold medication, those sticky bandages that made him grateful for his relative hairlessness, various vitamins, and a small tube with a screw cap that caught his eye. Intrigued, he removed and examined it, reading the label aloud.

"Maximus Easy Glide Lub... Oh."

Another clue to just what had Ryou in such high spirits. It didn't make sense for someone so shy to keep something so intimate in such a likely place, but Bakura disregarded it. He was too busy wondering just who Ryou was using the stuff with. Probably that big lug Honda. Probably bottoming, too. Not such an unpleasant idea. No, wait. That was dangerous thinking. Time to put the lube back.

He perked up upon noticing a bottle of blue liquid perched on the edge of the sink. Mouthwash has alcohol in it, right? Right. He seized the bottle triumphantly, and after struggling with the cap a moment, downed a bit of the liquid.

Not a good idea.

"Waugh!" he gagged as he leaned over the sink and expelled the foul liquid and half his dinner from his stomach.

He just hoped to all the dorky gods that he wouldn't have to explain this to anyone.


	7. A Brother's Love

**Author's Notes: **Well, I now have two positive reviewers. This expirament is turning out for the better, so it seems. I haven't even gotten into the actual plot of this, yet. I'm quite pleased that people are enjoying this, and amused that the only person who isn't doesn't seem to have read past the first paragraph.

Here's the sappy angst-o-rama I call chapter seven. Stupid Atem and his mood swings.

**Sesen Chapter Seven: **A Brother's Love

Jounouchi and Honda had gone to their respective homes shortly after the big announcement, and Atem was being ushered around in an impromptu tour of the small dwelling. A futon had already been set up in Yuugi's room so that he would have somewhere to sleep, and Yuugi had donated a few sets of his clothes to his new 'little brother'.

"And this is the kitchen," Fujiko announced proudly. She patted Atem lightly on the shoulder. "Feel free to eat until you're full, but don't snack after bed time, okay?"

Atem nodded, smiling gratefully. It felt so good to be cared for and treated well because of who he was, and not because the people doing it were paid to do so. The longing to stay washed over him again, but he pushed it away. He had to concentrate on the task at hand. Complete his divine assignment to set the world right again, then return to the afterlife. The thing was that he didn't want to go back. He had everything to go back to, but he wanted to remain. He would have to be insane to choose this life over life with his family. Right?

Family. A father who ignored him most of the time, a mother he barely knew, and an uncle who had wanted him either dead or dethroned, whichever came first. He had no living blood relations in this life, but he had a sort of psuedo-family. Suddenly, he wasn't feeling very hungry at all. He just felt confused and inexplicably depressed.

"I'm going to bed early. Good night, Yuugi, Fujiko-san, Ji... Tousama," he said softly, bowing a bit. He wasn't sure if it was appropriate, but it didn't matter. If it was right, he'd look polite and willing to please, and if not, he'd look all the more like an unfortunate foreigner.

Fujiko hugged him again as he turned to go to the room he and Yuugi would be sharing. He had never been hugged so much in one day.

"Sleep well, Atem. And don't call me Fujiko-san. Fujiko is fine."

"I'll remember that. Thank you," he said as he slipped out of the embrace. He had already broken down in front of people once, and didn't want to have another public crying spell. But he was close to it now; he could feel the familiar sting in his eyes. He balled his hands into fists and took off for his room. Yuugi would probably be in to talk with him soon, but he would make the best of the few short minutes he had alone.

He threw back the blanket on his futon and crawled under it, burying his head under the pillow. Moments ago, he had been enjoying the wonderful normality of being surrounded by his 'family', and was now overwhelmingly depressed. What was _wrong _with him? He had been unstable for the past two days, but all the happiness around him was making it worse.

Happiness. The contentment of being with family and friends with no danger nearby; what he had taken away from Yuugi by returning. That was what was wrong with him. Yuugi had gone back to a normal, happy life after he 'died'. He was no longer galavanting off to fight for the fate of the world or save his loved ones from outrageous foes. He was happy and safe, and Atem had stripped that away by showing up. He tried his best to stifle his whining as he heard the door opening behind him.

"Atem? Is something wrong?"

He remained silent, turning over on his side to feign sleep. He heard the soft creak of leather as Yuugi crouched down next to him. Despite his effort to look asleep, he couldn't control the slight shaking of his shoulders, or reach up to wipe his cheeks dry.

"Don't pretend to be asleep," Yuugi said sternly. "I can see you're crying, so just tell me what's bothering you. If it's something... personal, I won't tell anyone."

Atem whimpered at those words and tried to curl up into himself.

"You must hate me..." he sighed.

"What? Atem, I did so much to help you regain your memories. How could you think that I would hate you?"

"I've ruined your life all over again," Atem replied, his voice cracking. "Everything would have been just fine if I hadn't shown up. Now you have to put yourself and your friends in danger again. I'm sorry."

He winced when Yuugi brushed a hand against his cheek to wipe the tracks of tears away. The last time he had cried was out of joy, but now he just didn't want to be seen.

"You're my friend. And you make my life interesting. Do you have any idea how dull my life was before you?"

"Yes. You were bullied and had no friends, but that was a long time ago. Now you've got friends and a productive life."

He opened his eyes and looked up at Yuugi. A stern but caring expression in large violet eyes. Eyes that had become so much stronger over the course of one year. Eyes reflect the soul. Yuugi had changed.

"But I hate the dullness of it all! It's the same thing day in and day out. With you around, my life is exciting and lively. I always wanted adventure, and my experiences with you gave me a taste for it. And I missed you."

Yuugi took one of his hands and smiled down at him. Deja vu. He had been here before, in this same room, comforting Yuugi and holding his hands clasped over the Puzzle. Their roles were reversed in a sense now. Where he had been mentally stable and acted as Yuugi's guardian at times, he now found himself easily shaken by the most trivial things. And Yuugi was so strong and independent. It made him wonder what else had changed in his absence.

"Just don't worry," Yuugi said. "I'll do all that I can to help you, and I know that Jounouchi and the others will do the same."

Atem snivelled and pulled his hand away to wipe his eyes, utterly disgusted at himself for thinking such things. Of course Yuugi didn't hate him. If he did hate him, he wouldn't... wouldn't have allowed him to stay in the first place.

"I'll try not to worry anymore. But don't tell anyone about this. Please?"

Yuugi mussed his hair and smiled obligingly.

"Of course not. Good night, little brother."

Atem paused, considering his response to being called such. It wasn't so bad. In fact, it was actually sort of nice.

"Heh. Good night, big brother."


	8. Instant Messages From the Gods

**Author's notes: **Holy, crap! It's the plot! It's finally coming into focus in the middle of all this character development! Rejoice! As usual, I thank you all for your reviews.

The only notes that I have, really, are these:

AIM conversatiosn are annoying to write. Especiallywhen you have to format it to something FFN will actually NOT display as gibberish. The underscores in Anubis' name, unfortunately, are not displayable. Just humor me and imagine them, kay?

**Sesen Chapter Eight: **Instant Messages From the Gods

Bakura stirred on the couch , rolling over onto his side in an attempt to find a comfortable position. Ryou had found him hunched over the bathroom sink, and since he had given no explanation as to why he was suddenly so violently ill, he had been coaxed into lying on the couch for a while. A while was apparently an hour and a half. As much as he hated to admit it, the rest was probably doing him some good. He'd been able to rinse his mouth out before stumbling to the couch, so there was no vomit taste to worry about, the couch was skooshy, and the television was on a peaceful channel and a low volume. He could easily nod off right now if he could find an acceptable position on the couch. Yes, he was more than ready for some relaxation that didn't end in vomiting.

"Bakura! Someone is asking for you on AIM."

Well, that plan was down the toilet faster than an unwanted pregnancy on prom night. The tomb robber rolled off the couch and stalked off to the room his former host had shouted from. Judging by his recent luck, he had been contacted by some stupid porn bot. As of now, he had no need for porngraphy, nor did he need anything strengthened or enlarged in any way.

"Oi, yadonushi... Ryou... whatever. What kind of screen name does the guy have?"

There were two tinkling chime sounds from Ryou's laptop, and Bakura could see a new window spring onto the screen.

"His name is 'hit me again'. All lower case letters, with underscores where spaces should be. Is your English still as good as mine?"

He thought a moment. He had retained all the knowledge of the Japanese language that he had leeched from his host in their time as one, so it couldn't have been a great stretch if he still knew a little English. His fluffy host's absent father was half English, so he had some first-hand knowledge. How hard could it be when all he had to do was read it? There wasn't even pronunciation and accent to worry about!

"I'm not a blabbering shithead when I speak it, but I doubt I'm anywhere near fluent."

Ryou practically hopped out of his chair, leaving it vacant for Bakura. The younger boy seemed to hover around him as soon as he sat down. Still so interested in magic and the occult, even after all thath ad happened to him. He crackled his knuckles for dramatic effect before responding to the messages.

hit me again: r u on yet bakura?

White Mage Bakura: What the hell kind of typing is that?

hit me again: r u bakura or not?

White Mage Bakura: What the fuck are you saying?

hit me again: o. r are and u you.

Bakura muttered and lightly massaged his temples.

"The guardian of the afterlife can't be bothered to type two extra letters. Freaking lovely!"

White Mage Bakura: Fine, whatever. Just be sure to translate yourself regularly if you absolutely must type like that.

hit me again: u dont get online much do u?

White Mage Bakura: No. Can we just do this already?

hit me again: SHITFUCKMOTHERFUCKERCOCKSUCKERTIT

White Mage Bakura: What the hell, man? Do I even want to know what that was?

hit me again: sipgj

hit me again: ghn sodjf FUUUIk,v

White Mage Bakura: What are you doing, raping the keyboard?

hit me again: sry

White Mage Bakura: Stop the fucking gibberish!

hit me again: sry sorry

White Mage Bakura: Then what was all the babble?

hit me again: set. he likes to steal my keyboard and type swears

White Mage Bakura: Great. The god of chaos and thunder acts like a sugar-high teeny bopper.

hit me again: he really does D:

White Mage Bakura: Can we just get down to business?

hit me again: k

White Mage: Bakura: So what's going on down here?

hit me again: the forces of chaos r becoming stronger as u no

hit me again: sarpijg

hit me again: Okay, this is Neith. I think I'm a little more qualified to do this sort of thing. Grasp of nettiquette, and such. Plus the fact that my information is slightly fresher.

White Mage Bakura: All right, what the fuck ever. This has gone on long enough, so just tell me what I have to do.

hit me again: What the hell kind of screen name is this? Is he a masochist or something?

White Mage Bakura: Does divine status come with a free case of ADD? Get on with it!

hit me again: Fine, damn it. In short, someone has recovered the Book of Millenium Magic. Someone in Domino, of all the convenient things.

Questions rushed through Bakura's mind, and Ryou gasped softly behind him, probably more in shock of a magic book actually existing than in recognition. How had the book survived another three thousand years? How had it come to Japan? Who had it, and what did they plan to do with it? Most of the answers, if there were in fact answers, wouldn't provide much help. He decided to ask the only two that would.

White Mage Bakura: Who has it? What are they doing with it?

hit me again: A girl called Saito Suzu.

hit me again: Bakura. Before you do anything, I have to tell you not to bring this fight to Suzu.

White Mage Bakura: Why not? And you didn't answer my question. Why does she have the book? How did she get it?

hit me again: It's too dangerous right now. You and Atem don't have the power to actually summon your kas, and I can't be certain if you could handle merging with them.

Bakura was beginning to wish that there were an efficient way to communicate frustrated screaming through letters. There was something Neith was trying to avoid telling him, and it was pissing him off.

White Mage Bakura: Fine, if you want to skirt the issue, how the fuck do we do that?

hit me again: You can't just DO it. You have to be strong enough, you have to still be in harmony with your ka, and you absolutely must be prepared to use full force. You can't just say the magic word and make it happen.

White Mage Bakura: So what you're saying is that Atem can do it, but I can't because my ka was killed?

hit me again: You're alive, aren't you? Diabound is part of you, a portion of your soul. Restoring you meant restoring your ka. What I'm worried about is your ability to sustain the fusion long enough to get anything done. It takes a lot of physical endurance without any magical assistance.

White Mage Bakura: I'll be fine. I'll look after Atem when he does it. Now tell me why that girl needs the book!

There was a long pause, and Bakura thought he could feel his heart in his throat.

hit me again: I don't know how to say this without upsetting you.

hit me again: Zork is 'sponsoring' her little venture. She's trying to recreate the Items.

Bakura logged off at fell back in his chair. For what seemed like an eternity, his mind became entirely blank. He was nowhere, and nothing existed, not even him. He was overwhelmed; totally disconnected for about half a minute before Ryou mustered the courage to give his shoulder a shake.

"Bakura-san? What are we going to do, now?"

The shaken thief nodded, still not completely out of his momentary state of shock.

"We... There's no 'we' in this. You're to stay out of this, no matter what. I, on the other hand, have to make a phone call to the pharaoh."

"B-but why not?" Ryou sputtered. "Why can't I help?"

Bakura stood up quickly enough to send the wheeled computer chair sliding into the bed. Ryou cringed and looked for a moment like he was going to bring his hands up to his face. He hadn't meant to frighten the boy, just get the message across. Making no sudden movements, he placed a hand on each of Ryou's shoulders and looked straight into his eyes, speaking with utter sobriety.

"Trying to help me will only get you killed. This is a lot bigger and a lot older than even me. You're one of the last things I have any reason to care about, so please, for me, don't try to help."

The boy nodded slowly and cast his gaze to the floor.

"I think I understand. Do you... do you really care about what happens to me?"

"I care enough," Bakura answered, his voice cracking slightly. "I care enough not to want what happened to them to happen to you, or anyone else."

"Them?" his former host asked, obviously confused. Bakura only shook his head. He didn't want Ryou to know. Not just yet.

"Never mind that, now," he said as dimmissively as he could. "Could you leave me alone for a few moments?"

Ryou nodded, brow furrowing in concern as he shrugged Bakura's hands away and left the room. He shut the door behind him.

Bakura fell back onto the bed, covering his face with his hands as he began to shake a bit. This feeling was worse than wanting to cry. He felt so damned numb. The tears wanted to come, but his mind was still shut down for the most part.

It was all happening again. So many innocent people were going to die, were going to be... be hacked up and boiled down to remake those things. He may have to compose himself before he even bothered phoning Atem.

Bakura could almost smell molten metal and blood, but it was all in his head, just like a lot of things.


	9. Late Night Revelations

**Author's Notes: **Oooooh, boy. It's been so long since I actually wrote this chapter that I had forgotten just how unsatisfied I was with it. However, I'm still going to post it. The story wouldn't make a whole lot of sense without it.

In this chapter, Bakura calls Atem to relay the information Neith gave him in the last chapter. Also, Atem learns just a **few** of the events that have unfolded since his passing, and he and Bakura continue to snipe at eachother.

As usual, thank you all for your interest! I now have as many reviews as my story has chapters, and that pleases me.

**Sesen Chapter Nine: **Late Night Revelations

It was almost midnight when the phone in Yuugi's room started ringing. Atem had already been slipping in and out of sleep, so he stumbled over to answer it, hoping that it hadn't woken Yuugi.

"Hello?"

"Pharaoh, you had better haul your skinny ass down here. This is a hell of a lot more serious than we thought."

Bakura sounded nervous, even distressed. Whatever the situation was, it was dire. He lowered his voice to a whisper.

"What is it? Can't you explain over the phone?"

There was a long pause, punctuated by thoughtful sighs on the other end of the line.

"Fine. It may not be the best idea to go outside at night anyway."

Atem imagined himself going out at midnight. Walking streets with so few people that he may have to fend for himself, sans the powers of the Puzzle, should anything unsavory happen. Yes, it was better to stay inside.

"Tell me what's happening. Has someone gotten hold of one of the Items or something?"

"It's worse. A lot worse. The Book of Millenium Magic, the book that that old priest got the instructions for creating the Items out of, has been recovered. I can't be sure how, but a girl named Saito Suzu has it. Zork is helping her. Or she's helping Zork."

"And they're trying to recreate the Items," Atem said, assuming the very worst.

"Yeah. So what do we do now?"

"Hmph. You're actually asking for instructions? The great king of thieves is willing to take orders?"

"Don't fuck with me, you fern-headed twink!" Bakura barked, prompting Atem to hold the phone a few inches from his ear.. "This is not an easy time for me, in case you couldn't imagine!"

"Sorry. You interrupted my sleep, and I'm testy. Just disregard it."

He could hear Bakura sigh on the other end.

"Don't bother apologising. Just don't. I've got more to tell you, but it's not easy to explain. Just meet me here at noon tomorrow. And..."

Bakura trailed off, muttering so quietly that Atem could barely hear him at all, before falling silent.

"And what?" Atem asked, the sudden silence causing his unease to grow.

"Be careful until then, Atem. I mean it."

There was a soft clicking sound following the command. Bakura had hung up. His voice had been so ragged and soft before he hung up, and a guilt similar to the kind Atem had experienced earlier was beginning to loom in his mind. Before any of this had happened, his journey to the afterlife, he and Bakura's return to the living world, he would have had no problem with taking cheap shots at Bakura. But now with his memories, knowing what had happened to Bakura, what his uncle had done, what was no doubt going to happen again if they didn't do something, he didn't feel justified.

He glanced over at Yuugi before hanging the phone up. The older boy seemed totally undisturbed by the whispered conversation. Just as well. Atem didn't want to explain such a grave subject at this hour. He still felt obligated to protect Yuugi in some small way, even if it was merely protecting him from unfortunate news until morning. In the meantime, he couldn't fathom going back to sleep just yet.

He crept as silently as possible into the kitchen, nearly tripping on the long legs of his pajamas at least twice. He knew that Yuugi's mother had told him not to snack, but he wasn't going back to sleep any time soon. He would just call it breakfast. There wasn't much in the refrigerator that didn't need preparing, but he managed to gather up enough materials for a half-decent sandwich, and a partially-drunk soda as a beverage. He pulled a chair out from under the kitchen table and flopped into it.

What were they going to do about this? What the hell were they going to do? No Puzzle, no Ring, no powers at all. Were the gods going to give them something to use against Zork? So many questions with so few answers. He hated it, hated not being able to do anything until the next day.

The lack of sleep was making him dizzy. He hadn't slept well since he had returned to the world of the living, first because of paranoia, and now because of worry. He took a few bites of his sandwich and gulped down half of his soda before folding his arms on the table's surface and making a pillow of them.

He would rest his eyes for a few moments, just until the dizziness passed. Just a few moments.

"Atem? Atem, wake up."

The tanned boy stirred and mumbled at the sensation of a hand on his shoulder.

"Atem, it's five in the morning," a familiar voice informed him.

"Yuugi...?" he murmured. "I fell asleep?"

His eyelids fluttered open just in time for him to see Yuugi set a plate of food down inches from his nose. Half an apple, two strips of bacon and some kind of toaster pastry. Much to Atem's dismay, he wasn't hungry. Well, he was hungry, but he just didn't feel like eating.

Yuugi giggled. "Yes, right here in the kitchen. Did you have a hard night?"

"You could say that," Atem said, taking a piece of bacon and nibbling it half-heartedly. "Yuugi, I think I need to tell you something before everyone else wakes up."

The other boy stopped filling his own plate and took a seat at the table. At least Yuugi seemed ot understand the gravity of the situation without explanation.

"What is it?"

"Bakura called last night. The other Bakura. Anubis contacted him, and it turns out that someone is trying to recreate the Items."

"Wh... B-but how?" Yuugi stammered. "How can you recreate something without knowledge of how it was created in the first place?"

"The same someone somehow recovered the Book of Millenium Magic. Zork is helping her, probably giving her a great level of assistance. I'm going to Bakura's for more information later today. He said that the rest wasn't easy to explain."

Yuugi looked nervously back and forth from Atem to the kitchen door. "I want to come with you, but we need something to tell Jiichan and Mama."

"Yuugi, I can't let you do that. What would happen if-"

"Why the hell not?" Yuugi snapped, suddenly irate. "I've done an awful lot of dangerous things, in case you've forgotten! I'm not some fragile kid that you have to protect!"

"I know that," Atem said, shrinking back a bit. "But I still worry about you. It would be the same with Jounouchi or anyone else."

The taller boy sighed and shook his head, looking a bit embarassed at himself. "And I worry about you. If anything happened to you, and there was even a slim chance that I could have helped, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I wasn't there."

Again, Yuugi's intentions and desires had eluded him. Had he been away so long that he could no longer understand his partner's actions? No, that couldn't be it. They had both changed, even though only one of them had truly changed physically. All his other friends had probably changed as well, but he wasn't going to think about it. He had enough on his mind without worrying over who the people he loved had become in his absence.

"I'm sorry, Yuugi. If it means that much to you, you can come with me. Good luck convincing Jiichan and Mama to let you skip school for some unexplained meeting with an acquaintance of your bastard uncle."

"I'm beginning to think that we may not need an excuse," Yuugi said slyly. "The school is closer than Ryou's apartment building."

"So you want to sneak out at lunch? Wait, hold that thought. When did you start calling Bakura-kun by his first name?"

The sly smile appeared on the other boy's face again, accompanied by an odd spark in his eyes. "Well, when you're especially close with a person, you tend to speak in familiar terms."

Atem stared dumbly at the boy he had once shared a body with. He certainly didn't remember this kind of confidence, especially concerning what he thought this concerned. So much had changed. Had his other friends formed relationships of which he was not aware? How was Anzu taking this? Too many questions. Too tired to think about so many questions.

"So you and Bakura-kun are... When did this happen?"

"About a month after you left," Yuugi began, smiling fondly at the memories. "Ryou was depressed after the Items were destroyed, believe it or not. He explained it to me that the only person who could never leave him was gone forever. His mother and little sister died when he was younger, and his father is always away, so he was lonely. I started spending a lot of my spare time with him, and even took my schoolbooks over to his apartment so we could do our work together. One afternoon it just... happened."

"I'm glad. For both of you. I've never been in love, so there's not much else I can say."

Yuugi grinned and reached across the small table to muss Atem's already messy hair. "Not even a crush? Come on, the pharaoh surely had his share of admirers, at least."

"Maybe once or twice when I was younger," he admitted, trying with minimal success to pat his hair back into a more uniform shape. "I know now that I went through a phase when I'd get hot in the face whenever someone I liked just the littlest bit looked at or spoke to me."

"Ah, so you were one of those people who didn't actually do anything about it."

"And how long did it take you to make a move on Anzu, aibou?"

Yuugi winced as if struck in the face, obviously taking some offence in that. "Sorry if I can't be all suave like you, Mr. three thousand years to practice. Besides, she's more interested in you than me."

"It sort of took me a little while to actually realise that she felt that way about me. Do you think she still feels like that?"

Yuugi looked thoughtful for a moment as he got up to take his plate to the table, speaking when he sat back down.

"It wouldn't surprise me. She was gravitating around you more than everyone else when you showed up here."

Atem nodded solemnly. "I'll figure out how to break it to her that I don't feel the same way later. I've got enough to worry about."

"Just don't wait too long, Atem," Yuugi said seriously.

"What do you mean 'too long'?"

"There's sparing a girl's feelings, and there's leading her on because you're too shy, for once, to tell her that you _don't _like her."

The small kitchen was silent for a long moment as both boys seemed to forget whatever they had to say after that. Yuugi, as he began picking at his own plate of food, was the first to break the silence.

"Ryou and I had a fight about that about two weeks after we got together. I still think that Anzu is more into you than anything, but it was hard to tell her."

Atem didn't reply. The fact that Yuugi had gone out and started a relationship was still a bit much to take in. The two of them finished their food in silence before Yuugi went back to his room, probably to get ready for school. The smaller boy yawned and got up to set his plate next to the sink before heading back to Yuugi's room. Maybe he could get a few more hours of sleep before he had to leave at noon.

He wobbled slightly as he approached the door to Yuugi's bedroom, still not quite used to the long legs of his clothes. Yuugi burst out of the door just as he reached for the knob, fully clothed.

"You're off to an early start," Atem observed, yawning again.

"The library opens early today," the older boy called as he took off for the stairs.

Atem paused, blinking stupidly. "Whatever that means."

He ignored it and made a note to ask for an explanation later. At the moment, he was more concerned with getting the sleep he had missed out on the night before. He slipped under the blankets of his futon. The sudden change of elevation caused his head to ache momentarily. Lack of sleep had never gotten to him this badly before. Nevertheless, he nodded off quickly.

His dreams were unusual, but not frightening. Honda sending him a letter from New York City after graduating from the police academy, and Anzu coming to the shop with shorter hair and asking Atem how she looked numerous times until he answered, saying that she wouldn't be happy until he answered her even though she hardly gave him time to answer before asking again.

The pharaoh sat up groggily, the same ache from before ebbing briefly in his head. He had almost entirely forgotten the odd dreams by the time he had gotten out of bed. He glanced through the large dormer window at the gathering clouds outside. It was rather dark out. Even with the overcast from the dense clouds, it should not have been so dark in what he assumed was late morning. Still half-asleep, he squinted at the clock on Yuugi's desk.

"Fifteen past two...? Oh, crap!"

How had he slept so long? He had even gotten a bit of sleep the night before, but he was over two hours late! He sprinted the short distance to Yuugi's closet and pulled out a t-shirt and some jeans. The legs of the jeans need to be rolled a bit for them to fit decently, but the outfit would do. Not caring whether he was entirely presentable or not, he made his way downstairs. He nodded politely to Jiichan as he passed him in the shop.

"I'll be back later, Tousama. I'm going for a walk," he explained nonchalantly as he pulled his sneakers on.

"Be careful; you know you're not familiar with this place."

He wished Jiichan didn't insist on winking as he said that. With a wave to the man who had taken the role of his father, he ran out the door and headed toward Ryou's building. He could explain himself to Yuugi later, but he had important business that he was already very late for.

Yuugi wasn't kidding when he had said that Bakura's bulding was farther from the game shop than the school was. Atem's legs started to ache after a block and a half of running. Even in this body he wasn't exactly built for running. He ran three more blocks before stopping to lean against a wall to catch his breath. Not built for running, or any athletic activity at all, for that matter, but he had never given out this quickly before. He needed rest. He would walk the rest of the way.

It surprised him how he had seemingly regained memories of where everything was overnight. He figured he could probably find his way to the arcade Yuugi and Jounouchi frequented if he tried. And felt up to going all that way.

After what seemed like an eternity of wandering around in a groggy haze, the apartment building that Bakura and Ryou called home was before him in all its plain, white glory. Well, it wasn't particularly glorious, what with the blotchy areas that age often brings to buildings, but he was certainly glad to see it.

He entered and pressed the 'up' button next to one of the two elevators in the sterily white lobby. There was a hum of pulleys and a soft ding before the doors slid open. Atem stepped inside, pressed the number six button on the panel, and leaned back against the wall beside it. What luck to get an elevator all to himself in a crowded city like Tokyo! He shut his eyes for the duration of the ride, the movement of the elevator making him subtly dizzy. He needed to sleep more. Sleep more, eat more, and run a whole lot less.

The chime souded again as the elevator reached the sixth floor and Atem stepped out. Apartment six hundred and one should have been right in front of him. He looked along both sides of the hall, finally finding the door to the apartment at the end of the hall.

He pushed the doorbell twice, creating a soft 'pin pon' from within the apartment each time. Bakura answered almost immediately, carrying a stack of newspapers under one arm. Atem didn't know quite what to make of that.

"You got a job?" he asked, assuming the he had been getting papers ready for delivery in the morning.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Bakura countered, grimacing.

"You're not delivering those?" Atem asked as he gave a small yawn.

"Yes, Atem, I'm delivering papers for a living. I jump into a time machine and deliver them to last week. This is recycling stuff. I've been cleaning the apartment while Ryou is at school."

Atem blinked, still not quite comprehending the situation. The tomb robber had never struck him as the sort of person to spontaneously clean someone else's home.

"I won't ask why, because I probably wouldn't understand," he siad before his tone grew more serious. "Now what did you have to tell me that couldn't be explained over the phone?"

Bakura tossed the paper bundle onto a nearby armchair and sat down on the couch, giving the adjacent cushion a pat to invite Atem. This caused the pharaoh to raise an eyebrow, but he gladly took the oppotunity to rest on something as nicely padded as a couch. It felt strange to sit so close to Bakura, but oddly enough, he wasn't afraid of the other boy. There wasn't much to be frightened of, to tell the truth. Just an older teenager in messy clothes, wearing a haggard face as well. Atem hadn't been the only one who had missed out on sleep the night before.

"I told you to be careful last night for a reason," Bakura said, voice trailing off.

Atem waited a moment before urging Bakura on. "Why was that?"

"She's stronger than us," he replied quickly.

"What? How do you know?"

Bakura sighed and fidgeted in his seat. "Neith told me so last night. We've got no powers of our own anymore, so we're in a bind."

Atem gaped at the older boy as despair washed over him. Was there anything they could do? Anything at all? He didn't sound entirely hopeless, but Bakura had confusing ways of expressing his emotions.

"Are you saying that this was a lost cause from the beginning? That can't be true; there has to be something that we can do!"

"Calm down already," Bakura muttered. "It's not entirely hopeless. You've still got some contact with your ka, right? I know that I can still feel Diabound from time to time, even though I can't summon worth shit."

Atem paused. His ka had to be alive if he had been brought back, as it was a part of his soul. It wouldn't make sense to send him back with a partial soul would it? He still wasn't certain.

"Maybe? How would I be sure if I can't summon Osiris?"

"Stand up," Bakura said.

Atem remained seated, looking at the other boy in dumb confusion.

"Just do it!" Bakura barked.

The smaller boy started and scrambled to his feet. What Bakura was up to, he had no idea, but he was going to be ready for anything. Bakura hopped up from the couch and looked Atem up and down for a moment before placing his legs a couple feet apart as if to steady himself. He mimicked the stance somewhat instinctively, his mind registering it as a dead giveaway to an impending fight. His entire body tensed involuntarily. Ready for anything...

Atem's eyes went wide as Bakura quickly closed the distance between the two of them, bringing one of his well-muscled legs up to deliver a kick to Atem's arm and side. He hadn't been prepared for it, and it effectively knocked the wind out of him and sent him toppling onto the floor. He lie there clutching his arm for a long moment before he noticed Bakura looming over him. Was it just him, or did Bakura look... worried?

"Shit, shit, shit!" Bakura muttered, stooping down to help Atem sit up. "I didn't mean to hurt you. Are you all right? Can you breathe?"

Atem was severely disoriented. The kick hadn't helped his head, and he was still struggling to catch his breath.

"I'm okay... hurts," he replied, panting and grasping at his arm. "Why did you...?"

His world spun woozily as Bakura scooped him up quickly and practically tossed him onto the couch. The tomb robber got down on his knees next to Atem and began examining his arm. He bent it at the elbow a few times, and gave it a thorough patting. Atem assumed he was checking for any breaks, but he didn't expect anything more serious than a great big bruise.

"We're supposed to be able to fuse with our kas when in a moment of need, but I guess you needed to know that before I tried anything like that. Can you move your arm?"

Atem bent his arm half-heartedly, wincing at the pain of having to use his battered muscles.

"Fusing with kas... Like Mahaado?" he asked. The grogginess from before was returning.

"Yeah, something like that I suppose. Sorry I up and kicked you like that," Bakura said, reaching up to playfully muss Atem's hair.

Atem blinked. That certainly wasn't expected. "You're really sorry? Unh... Bakura, your hands are cold."

His heart sank as a look of concern flashed across the thief's face. He moved his hand from its spot in Atem's hair to rest on his forehead.

"No, you're hot," he informed, his frown deepening. "I'm going to call Yuugi to come and take you home."

Atem bolted upright on the couch as Bakura started off toward the phone on the living room wall. He had too many questions to ask just to be sent away, and Yuugi wouldn't be home now anyway.

"Like hell you will," he said as he stumbled to his feet. "I'm fine to stay a few more minutes so that you can explain all this."

Bakura glowered at him, grabbing the phone and punching in what he assumed was Yuugi's phone number. "I thought you looked sufficiently screwed up when you arrived, but this confirms it. You have a fever, and you've just been knocked around by someone much bigger than you. I've told you all that I know anyway."

Atem stomped over to Bakura and snatched the phone out of his hand with a snarl. He would not be treated this way, especially by that arrogant thief. He slammed the phone back into the receiver and glared up at Bakura, only to be slapped lightly across the face.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he snapped.

"What's wrong with you?" Bakura countered. "You're sick, you're hurt, and now you're getting testy because of it. You're in no condition to be of any help, so just go home. Get some rest."

He stared blankly up at the older boy, utterly confused. Honest concern for his well-being from someone who had spent nearly his entire life plotting to kill him. It was a moving, confusing thing. He nodded, unable to think of any argument that could defeat that sentiment.

"I will. Call Yuugi to come and get me, but don't mention the fact that we're.. you know."

"I figured you had some crazy alibi for all this. Go lie down."

Atem did so, curling up contentedly on the couch. He didn't plan to stay inactive for very long, but he wouldn't tell Bakura and Yuugi that.


	10. Nyquil Symbolism

**Author's Notes:** Holy fandango! Yet more reviews. I suppose I'm learning from this experiment that things actually need a little time to pick up speed.

All right, first order of business is this: The 'main' pairing of this fanfic is **undecided, and may never be decided on at all**. I did not start writing this with the intent of having two characters snogging be my happy ending. The omote halves are paired because I think it makes for a good background pairing, is cute, and adds depth to several characters. Yes, Atem and Bakura are going to spend a **lot** of time around eachother. They're going to spend **more** time around their other halves, seeign that they live with them. At this point, I may pair anybody with anybody, or nobody at all.

Second order of business is that I have submitted two Atem chapters in a row. This may disrupt the pattern of switching every chapter, but I felt it was the right thing to do. So, have a short chapter filled with Atem being cute.

**Sesen Chapter Ten:** Nyquil Symbolism

Atem sniffled pitifully and pulled the blankets over his head. He had been suffering from a severe cold for the past two days, and thanks to the weekend coming to an end, he could now add inescapable boredom to his growing list of discomforts. Yuugi had been more than willing to keep him company on the weekend, but he was at school. He would bother Jiichan, but he was too busy keeping the shop running smoothly, and Yuugi's mother was being... doing whatever the hell it was that she did that kept her out of the house most days. Bored, bored, bored.

He poked his head out of the blankets and reached over to the small folding tray that was serving as his bedside table. The plain tea that Yuugi had made for him before leaving for school had gone cold hours ago, which was his fault for hating tea without sugar and milk, so he sat up to pour himself a cup of ice water from the half-emptied pitcher next to his neglected tea. He gulped it down quickly and held the ice-filled glass to his forehead before putting it up and flopping back onto the futon.

He hadn't spoken to Bakura since Friday night, and it was irritating him. The least the thief could do was keep him updated on the situation. Ideally, he could do that as well as explain his recent behavior. It seemed suspicious that Bakura would take such a sudden interest in his welfare. Then again, Bakura had been acting strangely since they arrived. Perhaps a second chance at life had changed his perspective. No, that didn't make any sense. Even with a healthier philosophy on life, Atem doubted that Bakura's attitude toward him had changed enough for him to care whether or not he was sick.

It was raining again; he could smell that unique rain smell through to cracked window. Jiichan had been going on earlier about how fresh air was better for sick people than the 'dirty' air inside, but Yuugi's mother had convinced him to leave cracked instead of opening it, arguing that the damp, chilled air outside would probably make Atem worse. Neither hypothesis made much sense to him, but the medicine he was taking might have been to blame.

Rain... It had been raining on and off since he and Bakura left the tiny park on Friday. Bakura had acted strangely at the park, too. He had looked almost wistful when he started swinging out of nowhere, then... then he had asked why Atem bothered to work with him if he hated him so much. Then he had answered, then Bakura had snapped at him, and then...

Did he hate Bakura? No? Maybe? He should have, shouldn't he? Bakura had done so many awful things, hurt so many people... but all for a purpose. Revenge, his ultimate goal. Atem had done terrible things when he was first released from the Puzzle, and for much more trivial reasons than Bakura. No. He had been out of his mind at that time. No memories, no identity, nothing else to protect or care for than the one that had released him from an eternity of solitude.

But wasn't Bakura out of his mind all the time? Didn't he have every right to be after what he had been through? Left all alone after seeing his entire family killed. Looking at Bakura now, he couldn't have been any more than six when it had happened. He simply couldn't fathom that situation.

'_How did he deal with that? How can someone, especially someone so young, even go on after that...' _

His head was starting to ache again. He took that as his cue to push those thoughts from his mind. All he had to do was find some way to occupy himself, right? He looked around the room for the umpteenth time since he had been ordered to remain in bed until he was well again. Shockingly, he noticed something he had passed over before; a handheld video game system of some kind resting temptingly on Yuugi's desk. He practically hopped out of his bed and grabbed it up.

No cartridge. Great. Undeterred, he began rummaging through the desk drawers in search of anything remotely resembling a video game cartridge. Success! A small black rectangle at the bottom of the bottom-most drawer. He pulled it out and examined it. The label read "Oasis" and featured a deeply-tanned warrior brandishing a scimitar at a menacing group of skeletons. It fit perfectly when he tried to insert it into the handheld contraption. Satisfied, he lied back down on the futon, pulled the thickest of his two blankets over him, and switched the game on.

He could worry about Bakura later.

Atem whipped his head from side to side. He had just been playing a video game, and... and now he was somewhere else. It was night, and he was in a desert, though he had no idea how he had gotten there. He could feel the cool sand under his bare feet. Bare feet? He looked down at himself to find that he was completely nude. He shuddered, suddenly accutely aware of the chilly air around him. There was a pool of steaming water some yards ahead of him, with a figure wading waist-deep in it. Atem began walking toward the water, feeling compelled to join the figure bathing in its warmth.

The figure in the water became clearer as he approached; better built and much taller than himself, with wild white hair. What was Bakura doing there? There was another odd detail. Bakura was wearing bandages from his neck to his waist. It was confusing, but it seemed right, though Atem couldn't quite fathom why. He decided to call out to the other boy before stepping into the pool.

"Bakura!"

No reply. Bakura simply stood there, gazing down into the pool. Suddenly very concerned for Bakura, Atem ran into the water, finding that it had a rather slippery, slick bottom, probably of some kind of worn stone. The water that only reached Bakura's waist soon reached his chest.

"Bakura!"

Again, no reply. He reached out to the other boy, meaning to grab his arm and shake him out of whatever trance had fallen into. That was when the bottom of the pool seemed to disappear from under his feet. He sank like a lead balloon. Atem watched as the shocked exclamation he had let out floated to the surface in the form of a great mass of bubbles. All the air in his lungs.

He looked around in a panic, almost certain that he had done a flip on his way down, that the surface was below him instead of above. It was black around him. He could hear and feel water running, feel invisible currents slowly carrying his body in random directions.

"Atem," a voice behind him beckoned.

With some effort, Atem spun around in the water to face the voice. He wasn't entirely surprised to see Bakura suspended in the water, no more than ten feet away, smiling intently at him.

Sinuous, translucent forms floated between the two of them, obscuring Bakura almost entirely from his view. The faceless, human-shaped forms danced and writhed, and no matter how he tried to bypass them and reach Bakura before they both drowned, the things obstructed him.

"Atem," another voice called, this one muffled and distant.

The spiky-headed boy groaned as his eyelids fluttered open. A dream; it had all been a dream. Yuugi was there now, and the dream was dissolving into fragments by the time he managed to say anything.

"You're home early...?" he murmured.

Yuugi smiled and stood up from his kneeling position by the futon. "You've been asleep all day. And you ran my game's batteries out."

Atem averted his eyes to the darkened window when Yuugi dangled the toy in front of his face playfully. It wasn't as if he had meant to fall into a sort of miniature coma. Rain was still pouring down outside, which was a relief. At least there wasn't a beautiful, clear night to be missed by lying in bed sick.


	11. The Ruiner, Saito Suzu

**Author's Notes:** Well, the last chapter went over like a lead balloon covered in fat people. I have a feeling it was because it involved two fictional naked guys in the same area as eachother, but no matter. As usual, thanks to you all for your support. Hearts and kittens to you all.

In this chapter, we meet our antagonist face-to-face.

As a sidenote: The 'shmee' sound, like Bakura's father being half British, is an injoke between Amiasha Ruri and myself.

**Sesen Chapter Eleven: **The Ruiner, Saito Suzu

The apartment was spotless. Garbage all neatly in tightly-shut black bags, laundry all dried and folded, all surfaces in the bathroom shining and stinking of bleach, and the small kitchen in similar condition. If there was any housework in need of doing, Bakura had greatly overlooked it.

Damn.

Bakura tossed down the rag he had been using to wipe down the kitchen table. He had been cleaning all afternoon to keep himself occupied, but he had cleaned the entire damned apartment. Before the Items had been destroyed, he had always had something to occupy his time, but he found himself idle very often since then. The idleness had become his enemy, for it gave him no choice but to listen to the tiny voices in his head. Not the ones that called out for retribution, but the ones that subtly reminded him that there were things in the world besides revenge and shiny objects. Things he wanted, but was unwilling to accept his want of. There had to be something else that he could do before Ryou came home.

He shuddered slightly as a warm draft brushed his left arm, turning toward it just in time to see a small globe of light disappear behind the refrigerator. There was no way... But it felt so familiar. Bakura could scarcely believe it. After all this time, those spirits were still around. He had known that they hadn't gone on to the next life, but it seemed unlikely, almost impossible, that they had endured this long. He cautiously approached the refrigerator, taking long, quiet strides. A soft sound from behind the refrigerator seemed to urge him on.

"Shmee!" it called. He peered behind the humming box, catching a brief glimpse before the apparition shot out on the other side and flew into the living room, repeating its strange cry.

"Hey, quit fucking around!" Bakura bellowed as he gave chase.

The elusive sphere of light disappeared under the couch, still emitting a soft glow from beneath it. Bakura had had just about enough of chasing mischievious ghosts around, but he bent down to peer under the couch and converse with it anyway.

"Do you plan to stay put now?" he asked in what he assumed was still the little spectre's native laguage. It would probably be too much to ask of a ghost to learn Japanese.

"Shmeeee," it replied. He could understand the squealing as actual words, of course. As far as he could tell, the squealing everyone else heard was whatever 'signal' the ghosts communicated in becoming distorted to the people who weren't in tune with them. Bakura didn't doubt that there were other people who could hear it as words, but he'd be surprised if any of them spoke the language.

"Yes, I know I'm not the kind to spend a day cleaning. Are you alone?"

"Shmeeee! Shmeeshmee!" the ghost replied, bobbing irately.

"Yes, I missed you too. Happy? So are any of the others still around?"

"Shmee!"

"That's good to hear," Bakura sighed, deeply relieved. "Where are they?"

"Shmeeshmee. Shmeee shmee."

"So they thought that Atem would be here? Heh. Tell them not to worry; he's just as helpless as I am at the moment."

"Shmee... Shmee shmeeshmee?"

"I was cleaning because I was bored."

"Shmeehee sneet," the ghost giggled.

"Don't give me that; just go get the others."

"Shmee!" the ghost, who was a young man who had been a friend of his family's in his living days, hmphed as he took off through the apartment's south wall.

Bakura got up off the floor and swiped one hand across his face, wiping off the small amount of moisture that had escaped his eyes. Fuck. That hadn't happened in a long time. It didn't matter anyway, right? He was happy because he could see all his friends and family again, so he had every right to be just a bit emotional. At least he wasn't jabbering on and on about saving the world or some crap like that.

'Just brush it off,' he told himself as he walked back to the kitchen. 'Forget it ever happened.'

He'd make dinner. He wasn't quite sure what he'd make, but it had to take at least fifteen minutes to prepare. Ryou should have been home at least a half hour ago, but Bakura wasn't ready to rule out the possibility of a visit to Yuugi. Boy, if their relationship hadn't come as a shock, Bakura wasn't sure if he could be shocked anymore. No matter. He would call if Ryou didn't get home in another half hour.

Bakura rummaged through the cabinets and refrigerator in search of culinary inspiration. The only ingredients he could bring himself to use in a quick recipe were the ramen packets, the remaining can of crab from Friday night, and a small can of spinach. Much to his surprise, the combination didn't sound entirely repulsive. He put a small pot, half full of water, to boil on the range while he opened the canned crab meat. The can opener was somewhat elusive, cleverly hiding itself away at the bottom of the sink. He reminded himself to drain the sink and finish washing all the forks and knives he'd passed over while washing the dishes. Once the water was boiling, Bakura dumped the spinach and crab, juices and all, into the pot. He reduced the heat, covered the pot, and left the ingredients to their own devices while he emptied the sink and put the utensils away.

The doorbell chimed throughout the apartment. Bakura huffed, tossed the dish rag into the sink, and stomped to the front door to answer it. He was already planning for various scenerios; what he would say, how far he might throw the person or persons who has interrrupted him. He yanked open the door, fully expecting either a gaggle of fangirls come to haul Ryou away, or someone selling something. Instead, he was face to face (sort of) with a short, bald man in a red robe. Grand, now he had loonies to deal with.

"Whatever you're peddling, little man, I'm perfectly content with the religion I've chosen," he said flatly as he began shutting the door.

"I come only to deliver a summons," the man wheezed, placing his foot in the doorway.

Bakura whirled around, resisting the urge to slam the door on the man's foot. Questions were racing through his mind, partly due to paranoia brought on by recent events, but he could only ask one. "Who wants me and why?"

The man reached into a pocket in the robe, face lighting up in a wickedly gleeful grin. He produced a wristwatch from the pocket and handed it to Bakura. "A summons from Lady Suzu," he said, lisping slightly.

"This is Ryou's," Bakura said, gaping dubiously at the watch. The small man nodded. "What the fuck did you do to him?" Bakura roared before rushing the man and pressing him against the hallway wall, pressing his forearm into the man's throat.

The bald man made a sickly gurgling sound before speaking. "He's safe, tomb robber, for now. Don't be alarmed. Killing me won't make him any safer."

"It'll make me feel a hell of a lot better," Bakura retorted bitterly. "Where is he?"

"At the bridge with Lady Suzu. He will be released upon your arrival, but no sooner."

Bakura snarled and released the man, watching with mild amusement as he gasped for breath. "Get out of here. If I see you here again, I won't hesitate to kill you."

The man giggled and ran off down the hallway, and Bakura took off for the elevator. Time was a factor, and he damn well knew it. People like Suzu couldn't be trusted, and he knew that better than anyone else. After all, a long time ago, he had been a lot like Suzu.

He practically smashed the elevator panel when he pressed the lobby button, consequently disturbing the three older women waiting in the elevator. He bolted out of the building once the elevator reached the lobby, nearly bashing his face into the front doors, as they failed to open as quickly as he would have liked them to. From there, he ran in what he hoped was the direction of the bridge. With no other for of transportation, he had to go on foot.

Rain matted Bakura's hair and soaked right through the t-shirt he had put on during his cleaning spree to spare his good clothes. He could think of so many better ways to spend a rainy Monday evening than running through the cold rain to meet some twisted woman and bargain for his former host's safety.

It was strange. Since he and Atem had arrived in Domino on Friday, the knowledge he had lost of the city's layout had gradually returned. It was... like coming home after a long absence. It seems unfamiliar at first, but the memories come back to you, and pretty soon, it's like you never left home at all. It was by that regained knowledge that he found the bridge after fifteen minutes of hard running.

His host and a person he could only assume was Suzu stood in the middle of the bridge. Ryou's eyes were cast down at his feet, which didn't surprise the thief. His host had never struck him as much of a fighter when it came to his own safety. Suzu's appearance, however, did shock him. Black hair to the middle of her back, bangs concealing her eyes. She couldn't be any older than eighteen, and hadn't quite dressed for the occasion. The simple dress blouse and mid-length skirt combination made it look more like she was coming home from college entry exams than initiating some kind of magic showdown. Just a schoolgirl gone twisted, it seemed. Two things alarmed Bakura as he approached them. One was the fact that his former host had failed to acknowledge his presence, and the other was the strange electric quality the air around the bridge posessed. It seemed to crackle and snap around him. It reminded him of the feeling of running a hand across a television screen, but it was everywhere.

"So you came," the black-haired girl said flatly. "Have you come to lay down your life for Zork-sama and I?"

"Fuck you," Bakura snarled. He jerked his head toward Ryou, who was still quite out of it. "Let him go."

Suzu giggled and took the pale boy's hand. "But I like him," she sing-songed. Ryou attempted to snatch his hand back, which pleased Bakura.

"Free him now, you freaky little bitch," Bakura pressed, taking a few stomping steps closer to Suzu. Who the hell did she think she was?

Suzu tsked at Bakura and grinned. "Don't get too aggressive, theif," she warned. "I'm a fickle woman. With Zork-sama's help, I could very easily snap your friend's pretty little head off."

Bakura stood his ground, his eyes darting momentarily to Ryou's face, noting the boy's half-awake, horrified expression. He had to do something soon, or he couldn't be certain what would happen to Ryou.

"Don't you think that he would make a fitting first sacrifice, boy?" Suzu said fondly. Ryou fidgeted and looked at Bakura with pleading, but still somewhat listless eyes.

Bakura's heart sank. He should have known what she had meant to do. "I showed, now let him go!" he commanded.

"Of course," Suzu said, voice apologetic. "How rude of me to delay the fulfillment of my end of the bargain." She released Ryou's hand, and he seemed to snap back to life immediately.

"Run, damn it!" Bakura snapped at the other boy. His host looked from left to right like a confused child before running past Bakura in the direction of his home. The thief breathed a sigh of relief and returned his attention to Suzu.

"You owe me now, you filthy bit of gutter trash," she sneered. "A pretty little sacrifice like that is a rare find indeed. As rare as, say, a survivor as weak as a child in a pharaoh's raid."

Bakura twitched twice; once for the gutter trash comment, and once for the allusion to his past. His mind was too caught up in eliminating this irritating girl from his life to get distracted by even that.

"Shut the fuck up and get to the point!" he snapped.

The electricity in the air seemed to crackle more vigorously as Suzu's face contorted into a particularly twisted grin. Her long hair was carried up in wafting strands by some phantom gust of wind, and lingered in the air, occasionally rippling or swaying. Bakura dropped into a loose fighting stance in anticipation of an attack.

"Don't be alarmed, boy," she said. "I don't like to fight. My body has to remain perfect for Zork-sama."

Tiny bits of wet gravel and sand began to swirl around Suzu's feet, and a black cloudy fog shrouded her. Her eyes flashed bright red.

Like that thing...

As if on cue, the air was suddenly choked with the familiar stench of electricity and death. Bakura tensed, expecting his body to be siezed with the same wracking pain as before. To his surprise, no pain came. Suzu was hovering, now, hair still caught up in whatever strange draft was carrying her upward. She giggled again as she steadily rose into the air. Some of the black fog around her detached and wafted down to the bridge. What happened next was both amazing and horrifying to Bakura.

The glob of cloud shifted, twisted, and solidified in the form of what looked something like a miniature Zork. It stood at least seven feet tall, and had a strange, elongated head. It charged him as if on instinct once it was finished forming, one clawed arm extended. Bakura hardly had the time to react, and jumped out of the way too late to avoid any damage. The left side of his t-shirt was shredded, and four long scratches were torn into his side. What was that song he had heard his host singing once? Wash your wounds with alcohol before they're dry and cold, and finish it with a dusting of the blue bread mold. A rather random thing to remember at a time like this, but he couldn't help it.

The creature came at him again, this time headbutting him hard in the chest and sending him flying. Bakura could only think of one thing as he crouched at the end of the bridge, gasping for breath.

He was outmatched.


	12. Atem to the Rescue

**Author's Notes:** Many apologies to my readers (many of whom seem to be return-readers, which pleases me) for the long wait for this update. The chapter itself has been complete for a good long while, but I simply didn't get the time to post it. Unfortunately, this may become the norm, as I have had an awful lot on my plate as of late.

For as short as this chapter is, it took an awfully long time to write due to outside distractions. I was quite proud when I actually got it finished.

If any of you have emailed me, I apologize for not replying. I haven't set up my Outlook on my new PC just yet, so I can't see anything you send! I greatly appreciate your support, and hope that you continue to read.

**Sesen Chapter Twelve: **Atem to the Rescue. Maybe.

Atem yawned lazily as he fluffed his hair dry. Sometimes the best thing for a cold was a long soak in hot water. He yawned again and stepped into his pajama bottoms. He had shed the top in Yuugi's room, so he went to retrieve it. Yuugi was downstairs in the shop area playing cards with Jounouchi. Atem would have joined them, but he had placed himself under a temporary quarantine. He didn't want any of his friends to catch whatever he had.

He slipped into the oversized top and fell back on Yuugi's bed. He could just go to sleep just like that...

Something flashed outside. A jagged, purple flash of light. Atem jumped off the bed and ran to the window. The strange light flashed again, brighter this time.

"Purple lightning. That's always a good sign," he deadpanned. Of course, he knew that purple lightning in Tokyo couldn't be anywhere close to a good sign. He also knew that, in a roundabout way or not, it had something to do with him. That was just the way things were. Adrenaline was suddenly coursing through him. He was finally going to get to do something! Something important!

But first, he had to find a way to get out of the house without being caught. He thought for a few moments. The only doors were on the first floor, and everyone was down there. He sighed. It would have to be the window. He grabbed Yuugi's windbreaker out of the closet and pulled it on over his pajamas. The also pulled out an old dilapidated pair of sneakers and stepped into them. Socks weren't high on his list of priorities at the moment.

He climbed up onto the desk and opened the window. With some effort, he managed to pull himself out and onto the flat part of the roof outside. After the flat part, the roof as almost vertical. He took a breath, gathering his courage before he stepped onto the steep roof. The roof was smooth to begin with, and the rain wasn't helping at all. He didn't have too much trouble, though, and made it to the ground without breaking any bones. He took a moment to thank his various gods for his nimble (though debilitatingly scrawny) form before beginning his jog to wherever the lightning was coming from.

The lightning seemed to be quite far away, but the windbreaker was keeping most of the water off of him. Save for the great amount that poured onto his head, of course.He stopped abruptly and sneezed violently, as if on some comedic cue. This adventure was already less exciting than he had envisioned. In fact, it was already starting to feel a bit pathetic. But, as he had reminded himself countless times in the past, this was something that he absolutely had to do. And cold be damned, he was bored!

His conviction renewed, he pulled the windbreaker tighter around himself and took off again. The flashing display of light guided him to a bridge almost halfway across Domino; the same bridge where he had dueled Silent Doll over a year earlier. He wanted to duel again. At least it didn't leave him congested and half-dead, unlike tromping around in the rain with that stupid tombrobber did. Atem blinked stupidly at the sight that greeted him on the bridge. Speaking of the tombrobber, there he was, looking rather battered, and accompanied by some huge creature that remotely resembled the twisted sort of monsters that Bakura had kept in his deck. Sort of. Only it looked more like Zork than anything else, and this couldn't possibly be a hologram. He stepped onto the bridge, squinting and moving to partially shield his eyes as the lightning suddenly became brighter, fiercer, and more frequent. That thing was looking at him. Looking straight over Bakura's head, and staring at him. Rather intently, at that. Atem instinctively took a step back when its lips curled back to reveal sharp, glaringly white teeth. It smiled at him.

Then, it raised one disproportionately long arm and swiped at Bakura, striking him in the side and knocking him out of its way. The tombrobber gave a pitiful whine after he skidded a few feet, but didn't move. The lightning continued to batter the bridge, and Atem's attention was torn away from Bakura's prone form when an especially potent bolt struck less than an arm's length from his feet. The thing was still staring at him. And still smiling. Its intentions were quite clear, smile or not. It was intent on rending him to bits. Probably more so than it was interested in Bakura. And there was nothing that he could do to stop it. Bakura was strong, but what could Atem do? He was even less of a match for this thing. But he had to do something! He could run, but that would leave it alone with Bakura if it didn't chase him. They were both going to die unless...

Unless he thought of something damned quick. All that came to mind was something that Bakura had said the other day about fusing with Osiris, and most of what had been said had gone through the sort of extensive mind filtering that a high fever gives a person. He rememebred Bakura kicking him, mostly. And then apologizing, and acting as if he cared about him. Bakura hated him, but Atem had seen real concern in his expression then. That meant so much more, now, when he was coherant, than when he was half-dazed with pain and a fever. It felt almost as if Bakura had forgiven him on some level, as if there was even much to forgive. But forgiveness from Bakura, no matter how brief or minor, was something rare. Bakura had put the past behind him in that moment, and helped him. And what had Atem done? He still harped at him and belittled him. He still thought of him as 'that stupid tomb robber'. He was supposed to be the bigger man in the forgiveness department, damn it! He had even forgiven Malik, but Bakura was still the stupid tomb robber. But that was right, wasn't it? Bakura had done the most heinous things imaginable to get what he wanted, and Atem hadn't even deserved most of it!

But it wasn't right. He had to at least try to understand and forgive; it was his nature. Or so he had thought. Regaining his memories had changed him an awful lot, it seemed.

The creature seemed confused. It glanced inquisitively between Atem and Bakura, as if expecting either one of them to charge it. Well, he was going to give it what it wanted. But how was he supposed to stand up to that thing if he couldn't even figure out how to use the only weapon he had? He had no clue how to even call Osiris, much less how to fuse the spirit into his body.

That thing looked back at Bakura again, longer this time, and took a lumbering step toward him. then something clicked in Atem's mind. A moment of need. Wasn't that what Bakura had said? That they could call out their kas and fuse their bodies with them if they were in need of it? He certainly needed it. If not for his and Bakura's sakes, then for the rest of the world.

He gave a long exhale, closed his eyes, and tried his best to reach into his soul to contact his ka.

"Osiris," he called softly, silently adding 'Ra, Obelisk, whoever the Hell is in there' for safety's sake. "I need you, now. Please, infuse me with your power. Strengthen me so that I may do as the gods have commanded me."

As soon as he called out to the spirit, the sickly haze that he had suffered from for days was cleared away. Atem was suddenly more lucid and aware than he had been since, well, ever. He opened his eyes, greeted with vision as clear as his mind. It wasn't so much better sight as it was better awareness of what he was seeing. For a brief moment, the entire bridge was enveloped in a sound golden glow, like the late day sun. Was it a side effect of his merging with the god spirit inside him, or just more of the magical fireworks show that had been going on since before he had arrived? Whatever it was, it had gotten the monster's attention. It had turned toward him, and was studying him with an almost shocked curiosity. Apparently, it had not planned for this contingency. Good.

"Well, come on!" he snapped, balling his hands into fists and bringing them up in front of him and gasping softly upon sight of his newly-acquired features. His arms were covered in deep red, overlapping plates, while his fingers ended in pointed claws. Natural armor and weapons. Things were certainly looking up for Atem. He grinned at the creature, trying to coax it into attacking. It had been too long since he had vented any agression outside of a duel.

After a moment's hesitation, the thing gave an ugly shriek and dashed toward him, one long arm outstretched. Atem evaded it with ease, darting to one side and circling around the monster while it was momentarily vulnerable. He struck at it with his new claws, and was pleasantly surprised when he pierced its plated hide and left behind torn scales and fresh blood. He casually flicked the blood and scraps of flesh off of his hand while he waited for the thing to take notice.

And take notice it did, turning about quickly to swipe Atem in the side and send him toppling onto his back. Something behind him, something new, was struck with sharp pains as he lay there. Atem had never experienced a pain like that. It was in his back, but not. Until he glanced at his side and caught sight of a red wing tip, he could only think of it as being in his back. But it wasn't. Fusing with Osiris had apparently given him an alternative mode of transportation as well as natural armor.

The monster was looming over him, sizing up its prize with obvious glee. Its scaly lips were curled back, and its eyes narrowed. It honestly appeared to be smiling, which in Atem's opinion, was a very, very bad sign. Atem had to act quickly if he didn't want to be sliced to ribbons. Slowly, the creature leaned in, bringing its toothy face inches from Atem's. The boy king shuddered as its rank breath was puffed against his face with each flare of the thing's nostrils. It was studying him again. Perfect. Atem brought one arm back, keeping his gaze locked on Suzu's pet's beady red eyes. It didn't seem to notice his action, and he slashed at it like an angry leopard. The thing recoiled and clapped a hand over its bleeding face, letting out a terrible yowl. Atem saw his opportunity and took it, scrambling to his feet and lifting off the ground with one great flap of his new wings. It was like instinct, how he just took off. He attributed it to whatever force had made him feel so alive and lucid when he was one with Osiris.

Atem lingered in the air above the creature, just slightly out of its reach. After a moment, it uncovered its face and whipped its ugly head around, looking for its opponent. Stupid thing. Atem wished halfheartedly that he could fire energy blasts, or even throw something, but he seemed to be damned to hand-to-hand combat for the time being. He'd have to get close to that thing again, before it realized where he was. He dove in to claw at its head, scoring a minor hit and catching its attention before flapping back out of its reach. It turned to face him, rage flashing across its deformed features as it crouched down. Atem tensed, sensing its intentions.

Before Atem could react, the creature sprang up and grasped his ankle, yanking him forcefully out of flight and slinging him into the open air beyond the bridge. Atem sailed, face directed at the ground. There was nothing but concrete and water nearly fifty feet below him, now. He struggled to right himself mid-air, succeeding in time to save himself from certain death. His heart raced as the shock of what had nearly happened set in. The lucidness was leaving him, and the dizzy haze was creeping back and clouding his mind. He was suddenly so terribly exhausted.

Atem twitched slightly as he came to a startling realization. Holding control of a god in one's own body probably took an awful lot of energy to maintain, and he hadn't had much energy to give to begin with. His vision blurred, and he trembled as he faltered in the air. He recovered and began the strenuous flight back to the bridge to try to finish the fight before his energy gave out.

His flight faltered again just before he reached the bridge. He tried his best to recover, but found it impossible. His body was weakened and unable to support the fusion. The wings that had been holding him aloft were gone with it.

Atem plummeted. He let out a sharp yelp, flailing futilely for a moment before he realized that it was futile. He was going to die, here and now, falling to his death. He had failed utterly. He shut his eyes, feeling them water with tears he probably wouldn't live long enough to shed.

The impact came sooner than he had expected it, and far softer, from both sides of him instead of slamming him from below. That wasn't right, was it? Slowly, shocked that he was alive at all, he opened his eyes. He was still flying somehow, and the pressure around his sides remained. What in the world was going on? His head drooped, and the pressure around him shifted and turned him onto his back. He looked up through the fog of fading consciousness to see that someone had actually caught him. The fog cleared briefly, and he could make out white hair and a scarred face in the dim light the the lights of the city provided. With a tremendous heave of his feathered wings, Atem's rescuer carried them higher, pulling the boy closer against his chest to avoid dropping him.

Atem smiled to himself as his vision blurred again, consciousness all but lost. Bakura had saved him. He gave a soft sigh and curled against the larger boy, giving in to fatigue after swearing to never call Bakura a stupid tomb robber again.


	13. Getting Patched Up

**Author's Notes:** To my reviewers: Guys, I have a job. And several other commitments, now that I think of it. I'm not holding out for reviews like some attention-starved badficcer. Jeez.

That said, I appreciate all your support through this bizarre bit of fanfiction.

This chapter tends toward a bit of silliness near the end, but I think that's all right now that we know that the heroes are going to live through this little encounter.

**Sesen Chapter 13: Getting Patched Up**

Bakura muttered to himself as he gave his wings another flap, soaring as high as he dared in order to make himself inconspicuous. At a distance, he might be mistaken for an especially large bird of prey. That was the best he could hope for at the moment.

Navigating Domino from the air was proving more difficult than on foot, and the pharaoh's murmuring and cuddling against him wasn't helping. It was distracting and irritating at the same time, and for a moment, Bakura considered dropping him. Of course, that would have made all the work he had put into saving the stuck up little runt meaningless. Though he really had no idea why his ability to merge with his ka had kicked in when it did. He was probably close enough to death for it to count as a desperate situation. Of course, that meant that he probably didn't have the energy reserves to spend much time at all flying around. He couldn't afford to dawdle; he had to get back home, and fast. He swooped a bit lower in hopes of finding some landmarks that he recognized. Upon taking a closer look, he found that he was nearer to home than he had originally thought. The distance from the bridge to Bakura's apartment building seemed trivial with the aid of wings.

Atem squirmed against him again, clutching at the tattered remains of his t-shirt and giving a soft sigh. Bakura shook his head, looking down at the other boy briefly. It was hard to believe that such a puny little thing had caused him such trouble and torment for so many years, and even harder to believe that he had bothered to save such a person. But is was necessary, after all, that he live. Bakura needed his help, at least for the time being, to prevent history from repeating itself. Atem had to be alive for Bakura to achieve his goal. How backward was that? He had spent over three thousand years trying to kill the little bastard, and now he was going out of his way to keep him alive. There would still be time after the business with Suzu had been resolved, of course. If they didn't end up being sent shuffling off the mortal coil again once they were finished. Atem was all but defenseless, now. All Bakura would have to do is catch him off guard and give his neck a sharp twist to-

But that didn't sit right with him. Looking at Atem in this vulnerable state, without magic or powers to make him the almighty pharaoh he had been, it felt more like smothering an infant in its sleep than defeating some mighty tyrant.

"Stupid little bastard," he grumbled at the sleeping boy. "I ought to drop you right here and now before I lose my nerve."

Bakura quirked a brow and chuckled as Atem gripped him tighter and whimpered. He hoped the little brat had heard him through whatever screwed up fever dream he was experiencing. He pulled Atem closer and scowled down at him in hopes of getting him to take his fingernails out of the flesh of his sides. It worked, but not especially well. His sides and chest were still a bit sore from the pummeling that monster had given him, and Atem's constant squeezing him wasn't helping in the least.

He heaved a sigh of relief, spotting Bakura's building. He had made it home without crashing into anything or running out of energy and becoming a red smear on the ground, and that pleased him. He landed in the alleyway between it and another building with a shaky, unpracticed grace, scanning the area for onlookers before willing Diabound's presence back into his soul. The wings that had sprouted out of his back disappeared, as did the silvery scales on his limbs. The pain in his sides and chest return two-fold, and he felt a trickle of fresh blood flow from one of the gashes in his right side. He winced, staggering out of the alley and nearly dropping Atem in the process.

He took the stairs up to avoid attention. This proved to be more difficult than he had hoped for. Atem was light, even lighter than Bakura had expected him to be, but Bakura was wretchedly tired and pained. Carrying the boy had become a burden now that he was flightless. As could be expected, the sight of a half-naked guy carrying another half-naked guy up six flights of stares attracted its fair share of curious glances, but no one interfered. Bakura figured they couldn't be bothered to confront two weird foreigners who looked like they had been attacked by some sick crossbreed between a prehistoric lion and a large delivery truck.

Bakura slumped against Ryou's door upon reaching the apartment, using his foot rather than his occupied hands to open the door. Or he tried. The door was much more resilient than he gave it credit for. He freed up one of his hands by bringing one of his legs up and balancing some of Atem's weight on his knee, and opened the door, nearly stumbling into the apartment before readjusting his grip on Atem.

Ryou was layed out on the couch, and to Bakura's great surprise, the pharaoh's former host was standing directly in front of him. The boy had... changed. A great deal, in fact. He was taller, more developed, and carried himself with a very obvious confidence. What he was doing in Ryou's apartment was a mystery to Bakura.

"Atem!" Yuugi said with a gasp, his eyes flashing rage at Bakura. "What did you do to him?"

The thief took one paranoid step back as Yuugi approached him and gripped Atem's hand. He couldn't be sure if Yuugi intended to yank Atem out of his grip or check his pulse, but the agression in Yuugi's expression made any other intents clear. Bakura would receive the closest Yuugi come manage to a righteous beating if Atem was in less than satisfactory condition.

Bakura sneered. "Yes, I killed him. Then I beat the everloving shit out of myself to cover it up," he snapped, wincing at a sudden wave of pain in his sides. Stupid fucking monster. "Are you a fucking idiot? Oh, wait, you are! If you weren't, you wouldn't just assume that I killed him for the sole purpose of bringing him ba-" Bakura crumpled over into an awkward kneeling position and layed Atem out on the floor. The strain of carrying the boy had become too much for his battered body.

Yuugi immediately stooped next to Atem and began half-dragging him over to the couch, while Ryou got up wordlessly to help.

"Oh, no," Bakura muttered as he got to his feet and staggered to a nearby armchair. "Don't everybody fucking help at once. I'll just bleed over here for a little while. Just fucking great."

He collapsed miserably into the chair while Atem was fawned over. Ryou knelt by the couch and quietly examined Atem while Yuugi walked off, returning with a blanket. Bakura rolled his eyes.

"Yuugi, he's burning up," Ryou said, his brows furrowing with concern. "Bakura didn't hurt him; he's sick."

Yuugi nodded, spreading the blanket over his unconscious other half. "I know," he said. "He's been pretty bad off for the past couple of days."

"You honestly thought that I did that to him?" Bakura asked with a snort. He settled deeper into the chair, admiring the tiny speckles of blood on it. At least he was ruining Ryou's furniture. Or another article thereof. "Tch. I almost expected better."

"Well, how did you expect to be treated after trying to **kill** us time and time again?" Yuugi snapped. Bakura felt his eye twitch as Yuugi snaked an arm around his former host's waist. So that's how it was, hm? Not so surprising in the grand scheme of things.

The former king of thieves tried to shift into a more dignified position before replying, but found doing so far too painful to bother with. Another trail of blood trickled onto the white upholstery of the chair. Bakura scowled. He wouldn't have much blood left to bleed if this kept up. Ryou was glaring at him with Yuugi, now. Fucking beautiful. The only person he could get food and shelter from had been turned against him by a meddling little twit who didn't seem to know as much about the situation as he'd like to believe he did.

"Oh, how forgiving you are," he muttered through clenched teeth. "Have you seen your friend Malik lately? Eh? How the fuck is he? Didn't he try to kill you, too?"

Yuugi cast his gaze at the floor briefly before looking back at Bakura. "That's different," he said defiantly. Ryou, so far, was remaining silent and huddling next to Yuugi. "Malik-kun is... was sick. The Rod made him that way. It brought out that twisted part of him that..." Yuugi trailed off, obviously feeling his argument falter.

"I don't think they come any sicker than me," Bakura retorted simply. A twinge of sadness tainted the apathy in his voice, and Ryou must have picked up on it.

"Yuugi-kun, leave him alone," he pleaded. "I know that you don't trust him, and neither do I, but he can't even hurt us now."

"Thank you!" Bakura said, sighing and throwing his arms into the air. He winced at the sudden motion and clamped a hand over his bleeding side. "How much do I have to bleed before I get any kind of fucking assistance over here? A bandage wouldn't hurt!"

Ryou hmphed and stepped away from Yuugi, placing his hands on his hips. "You expect me to pamper you after you nearly burn the bulding down?" he asked, all traces of the concern he had shown moments earlier wiped away and replaced with irritated anger.

"What in Hell are you on about?" the thief asked in reply.

"You left **something** cooking on the stove before you left the apartment," Ryou explained, his expression twisting into a mixture of rage and anxiousness. "The kitchen was absolutely filled with smoke when I got home! I thought that the place was on fire! You could have burned the entire building down just because you were so damned absent-minded!"

Bakura blinked in confusion while Ryou caught his breath and recovered from his rant. His boyfriend (or regular fuckbuddy; Bakura couldn't tell) placed a supportive hand on his shoulder and smiled at him fondly.

"I'm sorry that I thought saving your miserable life was more important than dinner not burning?" Bakura asked, raising an eyebrow. "I can't say I know what you want me to say."

"And now you're getting the place filthy," Ryou muttered, bowing his head.

"Well, that can't really be helped, now can it?" Bakura deadpanned.

A soft, choked sound seemed to echo in the room as a tiny droplet fell from Ryou's face to the floor. Bakura sighed in exasperation as a wave of guilt struck him. He had forgotten about Ryou's talent for turning an otherwise trivial situation into a terrible crisis when he was stressed by more extreme things. Being kidnapped by an insane woman was probably very high on his list of stressors, which wasn't hard to believe.

Bakura rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry that I forgot to turn the stove off," he grumbled, failing somewhat at feigning sincerity. "May I please have a bandage so that I won't bleed all over your things, now?"

Ryou continued to snivel and stare at his feet while Yuugi returned to his former position of half-hugging the pale boy. "It'll be okay, Ryou," Yuugi said softly, running his free hand through Ryou's hair. Bakura had already noticed that Ryou still used a suffix when speaking to Yuugi, but Yuugi had dropped the suffix and taken to calling the other boy by his given name. Sort of telling about their personalities, that. Ryou nodded solemnly and dabbed at his eyes with his sleeve.

"Sorry," he apologized with a sniff. "I'll go and get something for your injuries." He left, presumedly to the bathroom to fetch medical supplies.

Yuugi watched him walk away, shaking his head. "Thank you, Bakura," he said quietly, as if the thief was the only one meant to hear. "If you hadn't shown up, Ryou might not be here, now. I would have found out too late, and then..." His voice sank toward the end, becoming inaudible.

"You really do care about him, don't you?" Bakura asked, momentarily confused. He was unfamiliar with lovers and their behavior. Sex aside, at least. He could understand sex.

The shorter boy gave him a dubious glance before his eyes widened in realization. "Of course I do," he said. "Haven't you ever seen two people in love before?"

"Only my parents," Bakura said flatly.

Yuugi mused on that for a moment, that same confused, doubtful look on his face. "Have you ever **been** in love?"

"No," Bakura said, casting Yuugi a glare that said in no uncertain terms that it was time to drop the subject. "Did Ryou say anything about that woman? Where she took him before the bridge? If she told him anything?"

Yuugi shook his head. "He didn't say that she took him anywhere else, but..." Yuugi trailed off, frowning to himself.

"But what?" Bakura pressed.

"He said that it's someone we've seen before," Yuugi continued. "We started noticing her three months or so ago. She'd be standing outside the school after we got out for the day. I didn't think anything of it at first. The first few times, I mean. Then I noticed that she would watch us; she even followed us a little ways once. Ryou... he thought that she might want to talk to us and be our friend. He tried talking to her once, but she just glowered at him and walked away. I've never seen someone walk like that. She was like a ghost, almost."

"Did you ever see her anywhere else?" Bakura asked, leaning forward in his seat. He swallowed hard, his lips pressed together in a thin line.

"I used to think that I saw her a few times," Yuugi affirmed, nodding. "Once in the arcade I take Ryou to every other week, and a few times in the park. She was always gone so fast that I thought I was imagining it. Ryou toldme once, over the phone, that he had seen her outside his building, looking up at his window. He insisted that I come over, and was terrified of her from then on. He didn't want to walk home from school alone for two whole weeks."

Bakura fell back into his former position, slapping his palm to his face. "Well, this is fucking bad," he grumbled. "She knows where you live; she knows your schedule; she knows that you're usually together. Scouting the mark. Great. Absolutely baeutiful."

"So what are we going to do?" Yuugi asked. Bakura was stunned by his ability to remain calm under these circumstances. Even **he** was shaken by what he had just heard, but Yuugi seemed totally collected. "I can't watch Ryou at all times, as much as I'd like to."

"Well, I'll be here most of the time," Bakura reminded him.

"I'm not sure that's very comforting," Yuugi grumbled. "You've tricked us before."

"Please, don't start fighting again," Ryou said from the doorway. His arms were loaded down with various bottles and cartons, and he was smiling a calm, sad smile. Bakura had scarcely seen him wear any other kind of smile. Ryou walked over and motioned for Bakura to stand. He did so, but with some reluctance. He had been comfortable, and wasn't quite willing to trade comfort for being poked and prodded with whatever was in those little cartons.

"We weren't fighting, were we, Yuugi?" Bakura asked with a sly smirk. There was something satisfying about the way Yuugi nodded amiably at Ryou while smiling that goofy smile. The little runt knew he had been caught.

Bakura winced as one of the bits of t-shirt that had been adhered to the wounds in his side by drying blood was yanked loose. He glared at Ryou, who only shook his head and reached for one of the bottles he had carried out. "Don't be such a big wimp," he chided with a soft laugh.

"I'm not being a wimp!" Bakura snapped, raising his arms so that Ryou could remove the rest of his tattered shirt. It was unnecessary, since he only had his right sleeve and a few shreds dangling below it. "You'd be tender, too, if you'd just had a few chunks torn out of you by some- Ow! Fuck!" The thief scooted away from Ryou as an unusual hissing sound followed the intense stinging in his side. "The Hell did you just do?"

His former host followed him, holding out a bloody cotton ball soaked in some smelly, clear liquid. Ryou smiled in an amused way, looking more like he was dealing with an unruly child than with a dangerous person like Bakura. "It's to clean your wounds out," he explained calmly. "If it's hissing like that, they're probably full of germs! Now come here and let me finish."

"No!" the thief whined. He sidestepped Ryou, holding his arms and scowling. At least, it felt like scowling to him. To everyone else, he appeared to be pouting. "I've had a bad enough night without you torturing me!"

"Bakura, stop being difficult," Ryou scolded. "It'll just get infected if I bandage it up and don't clean it. How would you like that? A big, painful infection that eventually gets into your bloodstream and kills you. Does five minutes of stinging sound worse than that, now?"

Yuugi was snickering. Bastard. But Ryou did have a point, as much as Bakura hated to admit it. Treating old wounds, in his experience. was a Hell of a lot more painful than cleaning fresh ones. He sighed, rolled his eyes, and unfolded his arms. "Fine," he muttered as Ryou lifted one of his arms out of the way of his work. "Just make it quick."

"I'll do the best I can," Ryou assured, smiling and shaking his head. "Hey, Bakura?"

"What?" Bakura asked, somewhat confused. Why hadn't he started yet? Had he find something else wrong with him that needed explanation?

"How did you treat things like this? When you lived in Egypt, I mean."

"Me personally, or the culture as a whole?" Bakura asked rhetorically. "I couldn't afford a lot of the things priests and doctors used for a long while. Beer was a good antiseptic, if I remember correc- Yow!" Bakura's eyes opened wide and gave a twitch as the intense stinging and loud hissing from before returned. "Why the fuck did you do that? I was talking!"

Ryou smiled, obviously concealing a laugh. Yuugi didn't even have the courtesy to pretend it wasn't funny. "I thought it would help," Ryou explained. "Sometimes you notice the pain less if you're distracted. Pediatricians do it all the time."

The king of thieves slumped and glowered at Ryou, feeling slightly betrayed. "Distracted my ass. When I was little and had to have something like this done, I was given something to bite down on. And a treat if I didn't cry."

"Then you may have a treat after this if you don't cry," Ryou said, not bothering to hide his giggling as he said so.

Ryou returned to cleaning Bakura's wounds while the thief squirmed, occasionally biting into the knuckle of his thumb when Ryou swabbed especially deep. He consoled himself with the idea that this was the last time this would ever have to happen, when the truth was that his wounds would probably require daily cleaning for the next couple of days. Still, maybe he would get a treat every time. He just had to concentrate on not crying.

Yuugi was silent during the treatment, content to sit on the floor next to Atem, thankfully. Bakura was in no mood to put up with his heckling at this point. After ten painful minutes, Ryou withdrew from him to prepare the cotton padding and medical tape that would be Bakura's bandages. His wounds were far beyond a mere band-aid's capacity.

"You're lucky that you don't need stitches," Ryou commented, reaching for a blue spray bottle amongst the pile of medical goods and bloody cotton balls. "Can you imagine trying to explain injuries like this at the hospital?"

Bakura eyed the bottle suspiciously. "Yes, and I'm very glad that you don't know how to stitch wounds. What's that stuff?"

The pale boy popped the cap on the bottle and gave it a thorough shaking. "It'll help cool the wounds and make the pain less," he explained, gently nudging one of Bakura's arms out of the way. "It's going to sting a little at first, so don't flinch."

Bakura twitched as his side was sprayed down with the stuff, the stinging soon replaced with a cool sort of numbness. He relaxed a bit and turned to give Ryou access to the rest of his wounds. His former host repeated the process, leaning in to blow on his wounds lightly. The stinging faded more quickly, that time. After that, Ryou bandaged him, and most of his chest and stomach was soon covered in medical tape.

"There," Ryou said, beaming with pride at his work. "All better."

Bakura glanced down at himself. "I look like an unfinished mummy," he deadpanned. "Now where's my treat?"


	14. The Great Snipefight

**Author's Notes: **Not much to say about this chapter, other than it is **ridiculously** short. I just got the important bits over, and ended it there. For I am lazy, and that is my way. Also, I thank you all heartily for your reviews.

**Sesen Chapter 14: The Great Snipefight**

The former pharaoh stirred, yawned, and blinked his way into wakefulness. His back made a soft crackling-popping sound as he twisted about sharply. That couldn't be a good sign. He sat up dispite the unsettling sound, and took in his surroundings. A sterile, white living room. This had to be Ryou's apartment. Bakura was seated in the armchair a few feet from the couch, lazily munching on a large sandwich. His chest and sides were bandaged, and his expression was rather listless. He probably hadn't even noticed Atem waking up. Bakura's eyes were half-shut with darkening semi-circles under them, and Atem could clearly see blood showing through his bandages. The familiar ache of guilt came over him, settling as a hard knot in his throat.

"Bakura?" he said, trying to get the other's attention.

The thief looked back at him, blinking sleepily. "So the pharaoh has finally woken up," he said with an indignant snort.

"You're bleeding," Atem said, ignoring the comment.

"Not very much anymore," Bakura said lightly. He took another bite of his overstuffed sandwich and swallowed it. "Food helps a lot. Ryou made me this. After all the shit I put him through, he bothers to feed me."

Atem smiled awkwardly at the thief, feeling the obligation to ease any anxieties he might be having. How odd that only hours before, he had been cursing Bakura's name. Strange, what profound change a single event could bring. "Maybe he forgives you," he offered. "But forgiven or not, I don't think that Bakura-kun would let you starve."

The tomb robber took another bite of his sandwich and leaned slowly back into the chair, wincing at the motion. "You only know half the shit that transpired between us," he retorted. "If you knew anything about what I put him through when you weren't around, you'd wanna kill me."

"More than I do now?" Atem asked lightly, trying to remain amiable dispite his growing sense of dread.

Sleepy red eyes glared at him in response as Bakura spat his words. "Don't try to be so familiar with me, you," he hissed bitterly. "I hurt him, Atem," he said, dropping his voice to a low murmur. He cast his eyes down at the floor, seeming almost subdued. "You could never know what it's like. Sometimes, it was like I wasn't even in control of what I was doing. Those sharp charms on the Ring. The tower in Monster World. He had to have surgery on his hand, you know. I did even worse things to him emotionally. I didn't care then, but it's like I can fathom what I was doing, now, and..." He sighed. "Just fucking forget it, pharaoh."

Atem looked back at Bakura for a moment, stunned by the thief's words. He had always figured that Bakura knew exactly what he was doing, even that he enjoyed tormenting his friend the way he had. "How can you expect me to 'just forget it' after you unload like that?" he near-snapped.

"Just drop it," the thief deadpanned.

"I'm not going to drop it, Bakura!" the pharaoh barked.

Bakura snorted, chomping down the last of his meal before getting up with a wince. "Get the fuck out of my face, pharaoh," he muttered. Ryou and Yuugi were peeking in the living room doorway, at this point. they hadn't tried to break the snapping match up, which was probably a sound decision.

"Fine!" Atem shouted, the volume of his voice rising above the reasonably sane level one liked to maintain in a civil disagreement. He practically jumped off the couch, cringing at the sudden pain in his ankle and biting back a swear. It must have gotten twisted when that stupid whatever-it-was grabbed him. "If you don't want to tell me, then maybe I don't want to know!" he hissed through clenched teeth. Something about Bakura's behavior was so infuriating. He couldn't put his finger on it, but somethign about it made him feel profoundly betrayed. "Maybe all this moping and angst is an act, just like when you pretended to be on our side." The pharaoh stomped, or rather, limped, off in a righteous huff while Bakura stood motionless behind him and his friends watched him with a pensive interest. "Bakura-kun, thank you for letting me sleep on your couch. Yuugi, call Jiichan and tell him to come get us. I'm going to take a shower."

He swung the bathroom door open with enough force to send it smacking into the wall. It didn't damage the wall, thankfully, but it made an awful bang. He considered shouting at Bakura once more, even calling him a stupid tomb robber. Then, he remembered the promise he had made to himself as Bakura carried him away from certain death, and changed his mind.

"Stupid **fucking** tomb robber!" he hollered, stomping into the bathroom and giving the door a good slam.


	15. If I should die before I wake

**Author's Notes: **Well, it's been a while since the last update, hasn't it? Life has certainly been eventful for me as of late. In no more than a weekend I found myself enrolled in college for computer programming, I've got other projects up to my ears, and I'm still cranking out chapters for Sesen.

I'd like to thank you again for your support. This is, in all seriousness, my baby. I absolutely adore writing it, and I never thought that I'd say that. As it stands, this is approximately 6,000 words away from being novel-length. This makes me very happy indeed. Again, thanks for the love. I've got fanart and everything, and it's downright awesome.

A few things I'd like to cover before we move on to the chapter: After this chapter, the action is going to slow down for a few chapters. There will be less major plot advancement and more humorous character interaction. Think of it as a few filler episodes while I build up to the next big event.

Another thing is that, and I'm disappointed that I have to say this again, you should not use the reviews to contact me. My email is up in my profile.

Lastly, I'd like to warn you all that, while I have quit my craptacular job, I am attending college now. Please keep this in mind when you ask for updates.

**Sesen chapter 15: **If I should die before I wake...

"What a ridiculous bunch of crap," Bakura muttered, flipping to the next page of the comic book that he had found in the closet of Ryou's father's room. He'd found an entire box of the strange, English-language tripe while looking for unshredded clothing to sleep in. He'd found a t-shirt that was comfortably baggy, and a pair of shorts in equally comfortable shape. His host-turned-room mate had been kind enough to gift him with the use of his father's room, seeing that Bakura was still a bit sore for couch-living. He settled comfortably into the large mass of pillows he had comandeered from various places around the apartment. There had been several throw pillows and bed pillows in the closet, so he now had a rather impressive 'nest'.

He yawned and stretched as much as he could without irritating his injuries. The evening had been a bit too eventful for him to be able to fall asleep just yet, so he would stay up and entertain himself any way he could dream up. Unfortunately, Ryou's father was a terminally boring man, and the only interesting things in the room were the cheesy horror comics the man's son collected off and on. The Velveeta-fest he was currently reading involved a group of children on an Easter egg hunt. All Bakura really knew about Easter was that it was a Christian holiday, and that Ryou's grandmother sent the boy a card for it every year. Any other details were sketchy at best. Looking for eggs in the wilderness seemed to be a central part of the celebration, as did a giant rabbit. He glanced at the cover of the comic, at the befanged, man-sized 'Easter Bunny' lurking behind a tree as it watched some youngsters rummaging through tall grasses for eggs. So far, the rabbit didn't seem like the best choice of holiday mascot. He didn't blame the kids for biting all the heads off the little chocolate effigies of it. Bakura flipped the book around again and attempted to resume reading it. However, the ridiculous script, the unfrightening monster, and the fact that the ink seemed to be wandering between panels made him lay the sad little book down on the floor and settle down to sleep. He would have whipped it across the room if he were in a worse mood, and it belonged to someone who wasn't providing him with room and board. He scooted further under the blankets and several of his ill-gotten pillows, and clicked the lamp off. His mind was far enough off of Suzu and that whiny pharaoh, now, that he could go to sleep without something rattling around in his head.

The thief scowled warily at the strange scenery that surrounded him. Autonomously, without any real will of his own, he walked along the catwalk suspended above a steaming pit of indeterminable depth. The entire world seemed to be tinged with red light and slick with settled steam. His bangs were becoming matted to his forehead in the swirling humidity. He turned a corner, stepping into a steamier part of the odd world. Iron pipes of varying sizes surrounded the catwalk, intersecting eachother in some places and gushing steam or water from cracks in others. Bakura's awareness slowly returned, allowing him to think instead of simply acting. His first thought, understandably, was to get out of this strange place as quickly as possible. He knew he was dreaming, of course, but the place still unnerved him terribly, and leaving was the next best thing to waking. He wandered the endless, twisting catwalk for an immeasurable length of time before the whole place went dark.

"Fuck," he muttered eloquently. Dispite all urges to turn back to presumably familiar territory, he found himself pressing on into the blackness. "What kind of lucid dream is this supposed to be if all I can do is watch?"

After only a few paces, he abruptly found himself with no more catwalk left to walk on. Bakura fell forward, flipping over at least once before landing facedown in a shallow pool of lukewarm sludge. He struggled to the surface, coughing up a mouthful of the sweet, slightly bitter goo.

"Yaugh!" he sputtered, giving the glop a hard slap and sending spatters of it everywhere. "Tossed into a vat of chocolate in Freddy Kreuger's boiler room. This is officially the stupidest freaking dream ever."

The darkness lifted, and the same red light from before flooded the strange world anew. He spotted a rusted ladder leading out of the vat. It would be a bit of a stretch, but he knew he could just reach it if he stood on his toes and reached. It took some work to slog through the thick, waist-deep chocolate, but he reached the ladder quickly. Bakura got up on his toes and grabbed for the ladder. Strange, but it seemed as if the ladder was moving farther and farther away from him. He froze, watching the ladder inch away and feeling the warm goo slowly overwhelm him. It soon reached his shoulders, and the ladder seemed miles away. He jumped, reaching desperately for the last rung of the ladder, and couldn't help but give a gasp of astonishment at the sight of his own arm when he managed to grasp the rung.

His arm was small, thin, and frail. Like the rest of him, at this point. And his grip was slipping. He tried to grip hard, practically digging his nails into the bar, but it was futile. The slippery goo that coated his hands, combined with his weakened state caused him to lose his grip entirely. The little thief flopped backward into the chocolate, which now reached his nose in depth. He had to kick his legs to keep his head above the surface. He swore violently, thrashing slightly as he searched for another way out of the vat. Something outside the vat caught his attention; a tall figure leaning over the ladder.

"Are you okay, little boy?" the figure asked, leaning in further. "Do you need me to help you out?"

Bakura grunted, not at all loath to accept help as he swam the short distance to the ladder. The man at the top of the ladder climbed halfway down, and Bakura could see that he was wearing a rabbit suit. He extended a furry, gloved hand to Bakura, and the boy took it wordlessly. Bakura was greatly relieved as the large man hauled him up to safety. He relaxed, glancing up at his furry savior. The mask was strikingly realistic, now. Moments earlier, it had been more like a cartoon character and less like an actual animal. The man pulled Bakura all the way up the ladder, but to the thief's surprise, did not set him down immediately. Instead, he held him fast, gripping him hard at the shoulders. Bakura gaped up at the huge man, immobilised by the piercing stare of those hard plastic eyes. He watched helplessly as those eyes grew more alive, narrowed, and flashed bright red. Claws sprouted from the hands that grasped him, digging into the flesh of his arms.

"I'm glad I could help you," the rabbit said in its deep, snarling voice. It lifted Bakura up, close to its face. "I do love children."

The rabbit's teeth grew long, pointed, and worst of all, many. It grinned at him, globules of saliva rolling off its rippling lips as it closed in for the kill. Bakura screamed, but it didn't drown out the sound of the monster's voice.

"I like to bite the heads off first."

Bakura sprang out of bed, scattering pillows everywhere and rather efficiently tangling himself in a mass of blankets. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he muttered, shambling up to turn the light back on. He untangled himself and kicked the stray pillows out of his way before taking a seat at the edge of the bed. Slowly, he relaxed after a few calming breaths. "I should not be getting so worked up over something stupid like that."

There was no point in trying to go back to sleep, as much as he hated to admit it, so he decided to see what he could perloin from the refrigerator before he got tired again. He considered shutting the light off behind him, but decided against it. He needed a light to see by, after all. Never mind the little fish-shaped nightlight in the hall, he needed real light, damn it!

He made it to the kitchen, only to find that the refrigerator was already being raided. Ryou looked up, turning his attention from the refrigerated bag of instant rice he had been considering to Bakura.

"Bakura? What are you doing up so late?" he asked, squinting in the light of the refrigerator lightbulb.

The thief gave an odd, lopsided smile as he thought hard to think of an for being up at a strange hour. Explaining that he had been scared awake by a bad dream was out of the question, especially since the dream had involved a killer bunny rabbit. "Eh," he began, putting a hand over his stomach and continuing to smile awkwardly. "Stomach hurts. It was keeping me up, so I figured it was a better idea to see if there was anything better to do than lay awake in bed."

Ryou gave a small frown. "Oh. I hope you're not sick like Atem-kun. Do you have a fever?"

"Eheh, er, no," Bakura said. "Just ate too much... something. I think I'll just stay up for a bit."

"You're sure?" Ryou asked, obviously not convinced. He stepped over to Bakura, open palm extended to him. "Let me feel your head."

Bakura considered evading the hand, but decided it would be best to stick to his lie and let Ryou see for himself that he wasn't sick. He rolled his eyes while Ryou pressed his palm against his forehead for a few seconds before removing it and looking thoughtful. "Do I have a clean bill of health? Can I just go lie on the couch or something, now?" he asked impatiently.

"You haven't got a fever," Ryou said, frowning again. "You're all sweaty, though. Are you sure it's just your stomach? Do you feel nauseous or dizzy?"

"I'm fine, damn it," Bakura muttered, turning away from Ryou and walking to the living room. "I just have a stomach ache that makes it tough to sleep. I'm gonna find something entertaining to do until it goes away."

"Okay..." he heard Ryou murmur behind him.

He flicked the lights on in the living room and practically collapsed onto the (slightly damp) couch. The remote was slightly out of his reach, but he didn't feel particularly inspired to get up and grab it. Actually, he felt better already, with the lights on and another human being closeby. He yawned, listening to some of his joints crackle as he stretched. Suddenly, Bakura felt like he should have used a headache as an excuse rather than a stomach ache. He was hungry, now, and the irony was infuriating. He sighed, defeated by his own lack of foresight, and closed his eyes to try and go to sleep.

As soon as he closed his eyes, it seemed, a hand raked through his bangs. He opened one eye, repressing the urge to spring up and attack the person who had managed to creep up on him. He glowered up at Ryou.

"The Hell do you want?" he half-slurred, realizing that he wasn't fully awake. Had he fallen asleep?

Ryou held out a glass of clear, fizzy liquid and smiled at him. "You've been asleep for a little while," he explained. "Not much longer than fifteen minutes or so. I brought you some ginger ale."

Bakura stretched again, sitting up and taking the offered glass. "Why?"

Ryou fidgetted. "Well, it's supposed to make your stomach feel better. I get nauseous when I'm nervous, sometimes, so I keep a bottle of that around when I can."

Bakura gave the stuff a curious sip before downing most of it. He cringed. "How does this help?"

"I don't like it either. Just give it a little time," Ryou said, sighing. "It's kind of old and flat anyway, so it's not that good."

"How old?" Bakura asked, giving the glass a dubious look.

Ryou's face pinked, and he looked down at the floor. "About a month," he answered in a small, embarassed voice. "I'm sorry."

"Why do you need to keep this crap around for any longer than, say, a week?" Bakura asked, gulping down the last of the stuff out of courtesy.

"I just have to stretch things sometimes. It saves money," the slighter boy explained, still fidgetting. He smiled at Bakura again, meekly. "Are you feeling any better?"

"The little nap helped," Bakura said with a nod. "Still don't feel like going back to bed, either."

Ryou sighed heavily, taking a seat next to Bakura. "Me neither."

An awkward silence fell over the room, and it seemed that the only sound was the background noise of arguments and inappropriately-volumed televisions in other apartments. Bakura fidgetted and shifted occasionally, while Ryou found something ming-bogglingly interesting about his own socked feet.

"Bakura?" he said, finally breaking the silence after twenty minutes or so. The thief glanced at his former host. "What was life like for you in Egypt? I know... I know you were a tombrobber, but nothing beyond that, really."

The thief glared, looking away quickly as a vaguely familiar scenerio began to play out. Someone was trying to get closer to him, trying to get in his head. Well, he wouldn't have that. He couldn't have that. "Why do you want to know?" he asked sourly. "What does it matter to you?"

"I j-just wanted to get to know you better," Ryou stammered, his voice shrinking and trembling with hurt. "Since we live together, now. Normally, I mean."

"What's the point?" Bakura grumbled. "I'm going to be gone as soon as we get done with that twisted little bitch, and the knowledge will be useless to you."

"I still want to know you," Ryou said, seeming to calm a bit. "Even if you are just a memory someday, I want to... to maybe understand you."

Bakura snorted. That's all there was to it. Ryou just wanted to rationalize what had been done to him. "Fine," he said. "What did you want to know?"

Ryou brightened instantly, practically sparkling at Bakura with those big brown eyes that shimmered slightly with unshed tears. The thief shook his head a bit, reflecting on how fragile the boy seemed at times. "Tell me about when you were younger. Maybe something about your family?"

"Dead," Bakura said simply. He quickly buried the hurt that Ryou had uncovered with his blunt, ignorant questioning. "All of them. I was very young, so I don't remember a lot."

Ryou's gaze fell to the floor again, and he made a small unhappy sound. "My mother and sister died in a car accident. I guess... I guess that's not the same, but-"

"Damn right, it's not the same," Bakura spat bitterly. He hadn't meant it, of course. He had reflected on the similarity of their pasts several times. Once, he had even inadvertantly wandered into one of Ryou's dreams while exploring their shared mind. He remembered the flames, and the sirens, and the little girl slumped over in the car seat as blood spread out over her dress. And he had shuddered violently at the memories it stirred in him. The same memories that were slowly finding ways through the cracks and crevices of the wall he'd so effectively maintained around his mind.

"They're the people you were talking about. aren't they?" Ryou asked, sounding almost accusing. "They're the ones you talked about after Neith told you what Suzu was doing."

Bakura nodded, finding it difficult to say anything around the growing lump in his throat. He swallowed hard, clenched his fists, and concentrated on burying the pain again. Ryou wasn't making it easy. Something made Bakura want to trust him, but every lesson in life he had ever learned advised him against it.

"What happened?" Ryou asked softly.

Bakura shook his head. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he just tell Ryou to shut the fuck up and leave the room?

Ryou reached over and placed a hand on the thief's knee, speaking in a voice tinged with both compassion and his usual morbid curiosity. "What happened, Bakura? Just tell me. You need to tell someone."

Maybe it was the hand on his knee and the caring voice. Maybe it was sleep deprivation compounded by a stressful night. Hell, maybe it was just time for the dam to finally burst under three thousand years of heavy pressure, but Bakura caved nonetheless. He shuddered once, giving one hard sob, and tears streamed down his face. It was a different kind of crying than he had seen in Ryou. It was silent, and almost unnoticable unless you caught the first second or so of it. He was quiet, appearing calm save for the steady stream of tears flowing down his cheeks.

"Dead. He killed them all," Bakura began as the calm in his face began to dissolve away. "The pharaoh, no, one of his damned priests, had them killed. They were slaughtered. Their bodies were hacked up and tossed into molten gold to make the Items." Bakura shook, sobbed again, and continued. "My whole village was wiped out. He wanted us because we wouldn't be missed. We were all a bunch of thieves and sinners to him. My mother, my father, my brothers, my little baby sister... They were no consequence to that bastard."

Thin, pale arms were skittishly wrapped around him, and he was pulled into an awkward hug before he could do anything to stop it. "It'll be... okay?" Ryou said uneasily. He didn't know what to say; Bakura knew that. He probably couldn't really wrap his head around the whole thing just yet. Bakura knew, and he didn't care. He was content, for the moment, to indulge in his moment of weakness and sob into the boy's shoulder.

"All sinners paying for what they'd done. Sagira never hurt anyone," he murmured, recalling how the soldiers had laughed and shouted all around the village as he watched, helpless, as one of their fellows sliced his sister's throat. He sobbed again, snivelling and clinging to Ryou. "She was so little and I loved her so fucking much. They just... slashed her throat open and tossed her in with the rest."

Ryou hushed him, rubbing tiny circles on his back. "It's all right," he said shakily. "Everything is going to be okay. It's okay to cry. Just let it all out, and you'll feel better."

They stayed like that for a long while, quiet and still. Bakura finally broke the embrace, sitting back and sniffling wetly. He suddenly felt so terribly foolish for having confided so entirely in his former host. "If you tell anyone about this," he said, slowly and calmly. "I will reach into your ribcage, rip out your heart, and eat it. Every bit."

"I know," Ryou said with a small laugh. He stood, wiping the corners for his eyes. It appeared as if he had started to cry just a bit as well. Somehow, that made Bakura feel a good deal better.

"Look at us," Bakura said softly with a hint of a snivel. "Crying like a couple of girls."

An awkward silence fell over the room for several minutes before Ryou spoke again.

"So," Ryou began. "Do you still feel like you can't sleep?"

Bakura nodded wordlessly.

"Would you... like to play a videogame or something?"

Bakura snorted. More games. As if he wasn't just a little tired o f games. Hell, he figured that Ryou would've given up on games altogether, especially games with him. "What've you got to play?" he asked, adding "No RPGs," as an afterthought.

"Most of what I've got that's fun to play together or watch is some survival horror games," Ryou said, smiling awkwardly. "Not really a good choice, since the only reason I'm up is because I kept having nightmares. But I've got you to play with, so it's not so bad."

Bakura looked up from his spot on the couch, suddenly interested at the opportunity to hear about a nightmare more ridiculous than his own. "What about?"

"I forget," Ryou said with a shrug. "All I know is that they kept waking me up."

The pale boy turned and headed for his bedroom, motioning for Bakura to follow. The thief obliged, getting up from the couch with a slight sleepy wobble. Ryou was already in the room, gathering up discs and a box that must have contained the console when he arrived. Without a word to Bakura, he hurried back to the living room and set it up in a little more than a minute. Leave it to Ryou to be a record setter for speedy game setup. Bakura took a seat on one of the cushionss that had strayed away from the couch and fixed his eyes on the screen. The spectacularly gory opening cinematics played out, and to Bakura's surprise, Ryou handed him the controller when the title menu appeared. He blinked dubiously, but accepted it after some hesitation. He boggled at the contraption for a moment before realizing that he had no idea how to control this particular game. In fact, he couldn't remember having played any videogames while he had inhabited Ryou's body. Ever.

"What the hell do I do?" he asked at last, turning the strange thing over in his hands and glancing at the pulsating 'new game' messgae on the screen. Echoing shrieks played in the background, adding a bit of eeriness to the otherwise unfrightening title screen music. Until they started to loop over to old sounds, of course.

Ryou sat next to him on the floor and gave him a short lesson in controlling the game. "This one shoots, this one jumps, this one changes weapons, and this one's the action button. The game will tell you when to use, and what to use it for. You should press it now to start the game. It also selects. That's basically all you need to know."

"Right..." Bakura muttered, pressing the indicated button while his former host caught his breath. Another overacted scream harolded his arrival into the game world, and he found himself watching a short cutscene set in what looked like a computer-generated version of a low-budget horror film set. The characters prattled on about unusual happenings in the abandoned hospital while Bakura kept trying to convince the game to skip the scenes by mashing the action button repeatedly. It didn't work, unfortunately. Eventually, the cutscene ended, and Bakura was left with the task of exploring the hospital and figuring out what in the hell was going on. He progressed well enough for a beginner, and found his way around with ease. Soon, he found himself snooping around a grungy hospital room with only the light from a broken window to navigate by. He'd found a box under the bed with a flashlight and a photograph in it.

"Take the photo," Ryou coached, pointing at the item for emphasis. "It's important."

Bakura nodded and grabbed both items. Or he tried to, at least. "It says I don't have room in my inventory for both," he said, trailing off into vulgar muttering as he set the items down and tried again.

"No, no, no," Ryou said, shaking his head. "Just take the photo. You're as good as dead without it."

Bakura looked back at him with the same dubious confusion he had regarded the controller with. "Can't I come back for it when I find a sack to keep it in or something? I kind of need something to see by."

"You'll find a pocket flashlight in another room on the next floor up," Ryou explained. "If you took this one and came back for the photo later, it would be gone."

"What, did a gremlin take it? How the fuck does that make sense?"

Ryou only giggled and shook his head some more. Bakura took the photograph and continued his (blind) exploration.

They went on playing the game for hours, swapping the controller between the two of them every fifteen minutes, or whenever one of them was hoplessly stuck. In all those hours, the photograph had proved entirely usless. Bakura sat back against the couch, rubbing his strained eyes and yawning. Instead of grabbing up the controller, Ryou joined him, yawning just as widely. The first pale light from the rising sun was starting to shine through the window, giving the room a soft, almost unnoticable glow.

"We stayed up for a long time," Bakura murmured, unconsciously leaning against Ryou's shoulder in his somnolence.

Ryou nodded and tilted his head to rest against the other boy's. "You had a bad dream, too, didn't you?"

"Yeh," the thief replied. He shut his eyes against the strain of staying awake in front of a screen for so long and sighed contentedly.

"I thought so," the paler of the two said, closing his eyes as well. He yawned again. "You seemed more shaken than sick when I saw you."

"Not like your ginger ale helped..." Bakura muttered drowsily, abandoning the sentence halfway.

Almost simultaneously, the two fell fast asleep. The game was still paused.

Bakura was awoken hours later by a gentle but alarmed voice calling his name.

"Bakura," the voice called. He felt a hand at his shoulder and shook himself to wakefullness, looking up at Ryou, who looked rather disturbed. "Bakura, look at the television!"

The thief sat straight up, half-expecting to see either Suzu or that damned rabbit crawling out of the televsion screen. Fortunately (though not by much) it was a newscast. Apparently, some nutjob with a home video camera and a dream had recorded some of the last night's event from his apartment window. The footage, thankfully, was just the sort of quality one would expect from a nutter videotaping strange events from an apartment window. The two Bakurae watched silently as the newscaster (who obviously had some sort of accent that she was trying her damnedest to surpress) interviewed 'witnesses' of varying levels of insanity.

"There you have it," the woman said with a perky bounce as she turned to the camera. "All around Tokyo, people are phoning in to police stations and television networks with reports of last night's bizarre happenings. Internet message boards are swamped with discussion of the phenomenon. Oddly enough, most of these discussions devolve quickly into heated arguments over just what the strange beings reportedly sighted at the bridge were." A relatively clear shot of what looked like a white blur against the night sky apeared in a box on the screen. Of course, Bakura knew that it was a picture of him mid-flight. "This thing, which we will refer to only as 'the entity' to avoid offending people on any side of the debate, has caused the biggest stir. Most believe the entity to be an angel, while almost as many believe it to be a U.F.O. or an extraterrestrial. Some even believe it to be a new species or large bird! I'd like to remind everyone watching that this is all purely speculation, and that you should decide for yourself what you think it is before you believe anyone else. Back to Kato-san with tonight's weather!"

"It's Ito, not Kato. Kato's been on vacation-"

Ryou picked the remote up and shut the television off. He shook his head and frowned. "Well, what are you going to do now?"

"What do you mean?" Bakura asked. He was more stunned that he had been mistaken for, among other ridiculous things, a spacecraft. "What's it going to hurt if some shut-in with a camera got some shots of what looks like an isolated electrical storm with some weird blurs?"

"You're used to lying to cover things like this up, aren't you?" Ryou countered, shooting an amused look at Bakura.

"Not anything of this scale, but I've got practice," the thief answered. He got to his feetand stretched, feeling particularly refreshed and calm. "Who's going to believe any of those stories, anyway? And if they did, how would that effect us?"

"I suppose you're right," Ryou said. Almost immediately, he frowned in concern again. "But what if they find out the truth?"

"Is the truth any more believable than the story that I'm a spaceship?"

A long pause.

"No, I suppose it isn't."

"That's the spirit," Bakura said, glancing around for a clock. "What time is it?"

Ryou shrugged. "Probably about three. Maybe a little earlier. I phoned in to school to tell them I was sick. I just... didn't feel like going in today, honestly."

"I can understand. So, what's the story in case they call?"

"My room mate had a stomach flu and gave it to me," he admitted with a light blush and a smile.


	16. An Evening With Friends

**Author's Notes:** Wow, that was a long break between chpaters, no? Sorry about that. Computer programming takes a lot of time and effort to learn, so I've had a bit of a full plate.

Another short chapter, but not much really happened. As I said, the action is going to slow down considerably for the next few chapters.

**Sesen Chapter 16: An Evening With Friends**

It was Saturday. A beautiful, sunny Saturday, and a holiday on top of that. In fact, if it hadn't been a holiday, Atem probably would have been quite miserable, seeing as he was still barred from leaving the house after the fiasco earlier that week. The holiday, as it had been explained to him, was the beginning of a series of holidays called Golden Week. By virtue of a well-placed weekend, he would have plenty of time to spend with Yuugi the entire week, with the exception of Monday and Tuesday. Yuugi had been generous enough to spend most of the weekend with Atem, doing what the two of them could rightly be assumed to spend their time doing. Playing cards.

"I really missed this," Atem said cheerily. He shifted in his futon to better face the play mat spread out on the floor. The story that he and Yuugi had told Yuugi's mother and grandfather, that Atem had gone wandering around in a fever dream and beenpicked up near Ryou's apartment, excused his various injuries (including his twisted ankle) in terms that he had slipped halfway up the first set of stairs to Ryou's apartment. Consequently, Fujiko had confined him to a bed far longer than he thought necessary, as well as propped his injured leg up on several pillows. Playing cards this way wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world, but he didn't mind.

Yuugi nodded and looked his hand over thoughtfully. "So did I," he said. He set a monster down in defense position and gave Atem a blatantly mocking confident smirk. "Being with you, I mean. Not just playing cards."

Atem smiled and drew a card from his deck. A field card that was already in play. Just what he needed. "Do you still play often?" he asked.

"Not nearly as often as I'd like," Yuugi answered. His mocking smirk became a devious grin, and his voice dropped to a low volume. "Ryou needs a lot of attention."

The darker boy stared dumbly for a moment. Slowly, the realization of what Yuugi had meant sunk in. "I... er... Oh! Right," he said with an embarassed laugh. He could feel his face heating up just a bit, and for more than one reason.

"Took you long enough to get that!" Yuugi exclaimed, adding his own laugh. Soon, they were both laughing loudly and hysterically.

The door creaked open behind them, and Yuugi's mother peered in. "What's so funny?" she asked, smiling at the cackling teens.

Yuugi spoke for the two of them while Atem clamped his hands over his mouth, trying to stifle his laughter. "Nothing much, Mama," he said, still snickering between words. He exchanged a quick, mischievious look with Atem. Atem couldn't stifle the giggle that that caused.

"Okay, just try to keep it down," she said. She started to close the door, but paused and turned to Yuugi again. "Yuugi, do you have any plans for what to do over the holiday?"

"No," Yuugi said with a shake of his head, seeming to have calmed down considerably. "I thought I'd just spend some time relaxing. Did you have anything in mind, though?"

"Well, not anything too specific. I was wondering if you and your friends would take Atem out somewhere, once he's feeling up to it." She looked over at Atem, who figured he probably looked rather ridiculous at the moment. "Atem, honey, did you want to go anywhere this week?"

"Yes!" Atem exclaimed. He quickly sat up as far as his position would allow and beamed at Fujiko. Atem was very, very excited at the prospect of getting out of the house for business other than fighting off the forces of chaos. "I'm feeling up to it right now!"

Fujiko practically glared at him. "There's no way you're leaving the house just yet," she said sternly. Atem wilted and fell back against the futon. "Yuugi, you can take him out on Wednesday, all right?"

"I sure can," Yuugi replied. Atem treated himself to a little victory dance that consisted mostly of bobbing his head from one side to the other due to his position.

"In the meantime, Atem," Fujiko said as she slipped out of the room. "Get some sleep."

Atem slumped. "Yessum."

"So, did you meet any famous people while you were dead?"

Jounouchi's head bobbed as Anzu thumped him lightly. "That's a terrible thing to ask," she deadpanned.

"Hey, come on, what's the problem?"

They were gathered in the living room of Yuugi's house, the whole group. Ryou was cozied up next to Yuugi, looking oddly drowsy while the rest of the gang chattered on about whatever came to mind. A board game was situated in the middle of the circle of friends, momentarily forgotten.

"It's okay, Anzu," Atem said. He felt a bit out of place, still in his pajamas for lack of much else to wear. "But... I don't think we should talk so much about that."

"Why not?" Jounouchi asked, tilting his head to the side in confusion.

"My mother is still home, for one," Yuugi answered in Atem's place. Atem could only hope that Jounouchi would pick up on the subtle message in Yuugi's statement. To his chagrin, his friend blinked at Yuugi in a confused way. There were several seconds of tense silence.

"Oh, right!" Joujouchi exclaimed. "She can't know!"

Atem buried his face in his hands, laughing in spite of what grave consequences might transpire should Yuugi's mother somehow find out why he was **really** there. He reached over to the open bag of potato chips next to the board game to grab handful for himself. Yuugi had always opened bags of snacks by tearing them down the middle and turning the bag into an improvised bowl, which had always confused Atem. It seemed more ogical to open the top, not split the bag down the middle. Something warm and soft collided with his hand over the bag, and it took a split second for him to realize that it was, of course, another hand. One with nicely trimmed nails, wearing colorful bangles. His gaze travelled up the arm. Then Anzu smiled at him. Something, presumedly his heart, jumped up into his throat for a fraction of a second, and his heat flashed in his cheeks. It was a bizarre feeling, like he was ashamed for bumping into her on the way to the chips.

"Don't mind me," she said, her cheeks pinking a bit as she smiled. Atem was glad for his dark complexion, or he probably would have blushed a bit as well. He had been thinking about what Yuugi had said about Anzu since she and the others had arrived. Even now, the little voice in his head was echoing Yuugi's advice. Don't wait to long. Don't leave her hanging on. He had no intention of doing that. He could have told Anzu that he wasn't interested at that very moment. He could have just brought it up offhandedly and gotten it over with.

But he didn't. He just smiled back like a goon and took his chips. Ryou and Yuugi looked on, quietly amused. Jounouchi, however, snickered loudly and nudged Atem lightly. The pharaoh cringed as the familiar feeling of impending doom set in. Jounouchi was about to say or do something that would bring his plan to just wait Anzu's interest in him out crashing and burning all around him. He turned to Jounouchi with pleading eyes. The other boy was grinning widely, his eyes sparkling with a vaguely malevolent glee.

"So," Jounouchi began. Atem squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the impact. "You gonna go to school with us from now on?"

Atem slouched and breathed a heavy sigh of relief. "You really need to stop looking so... devious before you say things like that," he said with a slightly shaky laugh. "It's unnerving."

Jounouchi shurgged and grabbed a handful of the potato chips. "That wasn't what the devious look was for," he explained, stuffing a few chips into his mouth. "I thought it was funny that you and Anzu had a little moment, there, but I decided not to say anything. Thought it might make you uncomfortable, y'know?"

The room around Atem erupted in giggles, and Anzu's cheeks turned a striking shade of pink. Atem's face was also burning with embarassment. No sooner had he opened his mouth to defend him self that Anzu got up from her spot on the floor and administered a not-so-playful punch to the back of Jounouchi's head.

"Hey!" Jounouchi snapped, reaching behind his head to rub the growing lump there. He shook an angry fist at Anzu while the rest of the group continued to laugh. "What was that for?"

"People do not have 'moments' over a greasy bag of chips!" Anzu snapped back, causing Jounouchi to shrink back a bit. "Stop reading into everything and trying to cause drama."

Atem smiled up at Anzu is appreciation. She returned the smile, causing Jounouchi to titter. That almost earned him another knot on the head. Anzu strutted back to her seat and nibbled her chips smugly.

"I just think you to are cute together," Jounouchi defended, still rubbing his head. Honda only snickered at him.

Anzu glared pointedly. "Well," she said. "I think that you and Honda look cute together. How does that grab you?"

Both boys pulled magnificently horrified faces and shouted "Not well at all!" in unison. They slouched defeatedly.

Atem shook his head, ready to forget about that embarassing episode. He picked up the rulebook to the board game they had been playing, deciding that readign would be an excellent distraction. The group was soon deep into conversation again, switching topics every minute, or so it seemed. Eventually, Ryou suggested that they watch a movie. Now, since Ryou had suggested it, Atem expected either something invloving knights and dragons, or something involving demons and gobs of glistening entrails. Such a lovely contrast of tastes, Ryou had. Atem looked up from the book.

"What are we watching?" he asked.

"Whatever Ryou wants to watch," Yuugi cooed. Jounouchi and Honda rolled their eyes. "It was his idea, so he gets to pick."

So it was a fifty-fifty chance of dragons or entrails. Marvelous.

The group was halfway into the zombie-infested gore-party that Ryou had decided to inflict upon them, and the movie had yet to quell conversation. What it had done, however, was cause Jounouchi to practically leap into Honda's arms twice, tossign the bowl of popcorn into the air in the process. For a cheesy, low-budget film, it had its fair share of effective 'boo' moments. These were especially effective on Jounouchi, since he had something of a phobia of anything undead.

Yuugi rolled his eyes and started to get up. "Time for more popcorn," he grumbled. "Again." He eyed Honda and Jounouchi.

"No, that's okay, aibou. I'll get it," Atem offered, scrambling to grab the bowl and scoop as much of the spilled snacks as he could into it to be disposed of.

Yuugi smiled a relinquished the duty to Atem, content to stay put and cuddle Ryou. "Thanks," he said. Ryou wrapped his arms around him and squeezed, giving silent thanks to Atem.

After disposing of the soiled food and giving the bowl a quick rinse for good measure, Atem set a bag of popcorn in the microwave. He decided to pace around the kitchen for the five minutes it would take to finish popping instead of returning to the living room to watch the movie. He could just imagine leaving the microwave alone for a moment, then coming back to a charred mess. It had happened far too many times for Atem to take any chances, and they were running out of popcorn. He'd just busy himself going over his card list, which he had slipped into the breast pocket of his pajamas for lack of a better place to keep it.

Anzu stepped into the kitchen just as the timer on the microwave went off. "You've been in here for a while," she observed. She sniffed the air and glanced at the microwave. "I think the popcorn's done for."

She was right. The subtle scent of burnt corn and butter lingered in the air. Atem sighed and fished the steaming bag out of the microwave, emptying it into the bowl. It was far from salvagable, even by Jounouchi's standards. He grabbed the box from the counter and read the intructions aloud, trying to find his folly. "Remove from plastic wrapper and microwave on high for... three minutes! How did I mistake a three for a five?"

Anzu made a small sound of distaste and tested some of the popcorn. "Yech!" she spluttered, coughing into her hand. "No offense, Atem-kun, but there's no way we can eat this."

Atem sulked silently and dumped the ruined food into the garbage. That familiar feeling of being a complete failure was returning. Logically, he knew that it was ridiculous to feel this way over burnt food, but he couldn't help it. His confidence had just been so shaky since he had returned.

A pale, decorated hand rested gently on his shoulder. He looked up to find Anzu smiling down at him for what must have been the third time that night, and he felt the despairing feelings evaporate. As he had many times since he returned to life, he found himself marvelling at how a small gesture could so utterly transform a situation.

"Don't worry about it," Anzu said soothingly. Or maybe Atem's oversensitive mind imagined the soothing tone. "Jounouchi and Honda have plenty of other snacks to make themselves sick on."

Atem fidgetted. "I kind of wanted some popcorn," he admitted.

"Then go watch the movie, and I'll make it," Anzu ventured. "I was getting tired of watching zombies chew on people anyway."

The diminutive pharaoh beamed happily, thanked Anzu, and made his way for the door.

"Oh, Atem-kun?" Anzu called, just before he stepped outside the kitchen. "Could I ask you something?"

Atem blinked. "Of course you can."

"Would you, um... Would you like to go somewhere with me this week?" she asked hastily. "Just so we could catch up, and so you can get used to the city again."

This was it. This was the time to tell her that he wasn't interested. Firmly, but not harshly.

"Sure!" he heard himself say.


	17. Remembering Daisuke

**Author's Notes:** Well, it's finally Christmas break. Managed to finish the semester with a great record, even though the school computers seem to have fallen victim to an insidious worm. This is another rather short chapter; more of an excuse for me to inject a bit of insight into events than anything else. The next chapter should be a bit more substantial.

Now, I did a lot of thinking on whether or not to address this issue in the notes ,and since it goes beyond just reviewers I can PM about it, I'm going to come out and say it. This is not a romance fic. It did not begin as one, and it will not develop into one. Any pairings that develop will be treated as a sideplot. It will never be the focal point of the story. If you started reading this with high hopes that the last line uttered by a character would be either "I love you," or "I do," please toss those expectations out the window. I don't want to sound like I loathe romance, which I do not, but... no. Just no. I will tell you right now that some of the characters seem to be gravitating toward fancying one another, but that will never become a bigger part of the story than the overall plot.

Thank you all so much for your patience while waiting for this chapter, and your kind reviews in the meantime.

**Chapter 17: Remembering Daisuke**

Tired. Gods, so damn tired. Bakura stretched, giving a huge yawn and ignoring the snapping in his stiff neck. He opened the refrigerator and almost immediately closed it; he knew there was nothing that he wanted to eat. Eating was nothing more than another way to occupy his time at this point anyway. Bakura sighed and wandered into the living room, settled onto the couch, and aimlessly flipped through the channels on the television.

Bakura had come to hate idle moments more and more in the past few days, if only because they allowed him the time to think. Suzu, the fight on the bridge, Atem, that terrible dream and the interactions with Ryou afterward. Bakura didn't want to give any of those thoughts a foothold, so he had somehow managed to tire himself out doing next to nothing the whole day. He had woken early, sneaked into Ryou's room in hopes of using his host's laptop to contact Anubis, found the ridiculous god offline, then gone to the kitchen for some food. The events after that were a blur of time-killing and more of the almost neurotic housekeeping he had fallen into.

Of course, there was nothing worth watching on television. Just the same dumbfoundingly bizarre situation comedies and repetitive news casts that had been on several hours before. Or at least they all seemed the same to him. Some of the news casts and talk shows even had coverage of the bridge fight, but not even that could hold his interest. He could sleep, but sleep usually meant dreams. Bakura hated dreams. In his childhood, he had had the most awful, vivid nightmares. As his life progressed, the themes and content of the nightmares became varied, but less vivid. In his late teens, the nightmares were few and far between, but he still slept lightly. Any distinct noise in the night startled him into full wakefulness, leaving him in such a state for at least a half hour regardless of the source of the sound.

Frustrated with Japanese television's inability to amuse him, he turned the television off and tossed the remote into a throw pillow and walked off in search of other entertainment. Somehow, he found himself in Ryou's room, staring at an object he had been trying to ignore since arriving at Ryou's apartment. The cabinet that Ryou kept his Monster World figures in, some of the dolls within bunched together on the highest shelf. A sort of memorial to what had happened to the people the figures represented, he assumed. Slowly, respectfully, he opened the cabinet and pulled one of the foremost figures from its spot, turning it over in his hands.

"Your name was Daisuke, wasn't it?" he asked the little doll, staring down into its painted brown eyes. Daisuke had been one of the first. He came in a group of three, two boys and a girl. "I wonder if you even remember."

The children that Bakura had trapped inside dolls had most likely been returned to their bodies after the pharaoh had defeated the twisted fragment of his soul responsible. Most likely, but not certainly. It wasn't as if he had had time to check up on old acquaintances in the past week or so. Between getting caught up in the fate of the world and doing the dishes, who had the time to catch up?

An unusually accute feeling of guilt came over him as he glanced back and forth between the expressionless doll and his host's desk. The boy's once Spartanly-decorated desk had become cluttered with souvenirs over the months that Bakura had been away, and provided a sharp contrast to the painful, turbulent past than the tiny representation of Ryou's friend represented. Bakura had left a trail of comatose children and terrified school officials behind in every school his presence had forced Ryou to transfer from. Looking back on it, Bakura could hardly believe that he was capable of it. Such a random and malicious act, especially repeated so many times? Over so many years? What the hell had he been thinking?

'You said you wanted to play with your friends forever,' he heard that cold, twisted voice whispering from the depths of his memories. He took that as his cue to put Daisuke back in his spot. Right between Yoshio and Natsuko-chan, the ones he had brought along to play. Nastuko-chan was Daisuke's younger sister, and the smallest human-shaped figure in the cabinet.

He walked to the desk, picking up one of the many items scattered thereon. A framed photograph of Ryou, Yuugi, Honda, Jounouchi, and Jounouchi's sister standing in front of a fountain. The whole scene was lightly dusted with snow, and the group was dressed for the weather. Yuugi had obviously initiated a sneak attack and wrapped his arms rather tightly around Ryou seconds before the photo was taken. Ryou's pale face had turned an attractive shade of pink, especially distinct in the cold colors around him. Yuugi was smiling widely and flashing the peace sign to the camera with a free hand. Honda was grinning rather lewdly at them, his face partially obscured by the stack of packages he had been charged with carrying. Jounouchi seemed hell-bent on toppling the pile with the way he was leaning on Honda, and Shizuka only seemed interested in looking as cute as possible for the camera.

So much had changed in only a year. Bakura remembered his host as a lonely, repressed boy with pallid skin and dull eyes. The boy in the photograph was nothing like the Ryou he remembered. He was vividly alive and alert, surrounded by friends. He had even gained a few healthy pounds, it seemed. Or maybe that was just the heavy coat that he was wearing. Ryou was still a scrawny boy, but he looked healthy, now.

Bakura sighed and replaced the photograph. Ryou had turned his life around so quickly. He had somehow found it in himself to rebuild what Bakura had destroyed and make a happy life out of it. He even had a healthy, if admittedly strange romantic relationship. But still, how could Ryou forgive him, or at the very lest accept him, after all that he had done?

He smiled as the answer came to him. The only answer that made any sense was that Ryou was an amazing person with a soft heart. Whether he was wholly responsible for the events in the Monster World games, he counted himself very lucky to have Ryou. Very, very lucky.


	18. The Perils of Daily Life

**Author's Notes:** Good god, it's been a while. I have to wonder if I still have readers! I can only promise that the updates will be regular again after this, since I've come out of my funk. Ironically, I now have less free time than I've had in a very long time.

My only hope for the next two chapters is that the lot of you can abide by some silliness and character development while we take a break from the action. I'd say that I hope to get some reviews, but I can't be sure how many readers I've retained by essentially buggering off for several months.

Again, much thanks to my friend mistressminako, whose writing you should always review.

"Ateeeeeeeem!"

The pharaoh started and set Yuugi's handheld game down. He had inadvertantly gotten sidetracked playing Oasis when he should have been getting dressed for the day out the Yuugi had promised him. He had apparently wasted just enough time to warrant an impatient cry from downstairs. He peeked his head out of Yuugi's bedroom door.

"I'm almost ready," he called back. It was a terrible lie, considering he was dressed in his pajama top and jeans. "Just one more minute!"

"We've been waiting for fifteen minutes!" Jounouchi's voice bellowed up the stairs. "Just throw something on and get down here!"

Atem rushed over to the closet and finished dressing. After saving his game, of course. It was hard to find anything really suitable to wear, since the only clothes in the house that fit him very well were Yuugi's old clothes. He settled on the most stylish thing he could find in the box of outgrown clothes, a black tank top that was missing at least two inches from it. After some consideration, he decided that if Malik could get away with a short shirt, so could he. Or he hoped, at least. He preened his hair some before going downstairs, though.

His friends had congregated at the foot of the stairs. Jounouchi had decided to bring a camera along to help preserve the memories of their little excursion. Atem would have appreciated if he had waited until they at least got out of the house.

"Smile for the camera!" Jounouchi singsonged as bright white light filled Atem's vision. The camera only managed to capture him fractically trying to shield his eyes from the surprise assault. Jounouchi pouted and returned the offensively green camera to his pocket. "You can't just recoil like that! I'll never get any good shots that way."

Anzu elbowed him and waved up at Atem. "You look very nice," she said. Yuugi and Jounouchi snickered, and Atem could feel his cheeks burning. If not for his dark complexion, he would have been very obviously blushing.

"So do you," he replied shallowly. And she did, of course. Black skirt, light blue sweater. Even those cute loose socks that seemed to be popular for no particular reason. She was a cute girl, but the thought of being anything more than a friend to her left him completely... cold. And he felt guilty for that, for some reason.

The bell in the shop sounded, and Atem spared himself further humiliation by rushing into the shop to see to whatever customers had arrived. Jiichan had played with the idea of having him run errands and tend to the shop on some days in order to help earn his keep until he found a part-time job, so there was at least some excuse. Unfortunately, there were no customers to attend to, unless Ryou had brought Bakura long to shop with him.

"Morning, Bakura-kun," Atem said curtly before turning to the thief. "And what the Hell are you doing here?"

Ryou returned the greeting, and the tomb robber hmphed, glancing around the small shop. "I'm tagging along as a service to my host, pharaoh. Don't think I'm here to enjoy your company."

"Why is he really here?" Atem asked a rather nervous-looking Ryou.

Ryou fidgetted and looked up at Bakura. "I'm afraid that he'll burn the building down," he finally said. Bakura only snorted in reply as he examined one of the Duel Monsters displays.

"Ryou!" Fujiko's voice called from the back room. She stepped out in her apron and house slippers, somewhat dusty and seemingly unaware of her disshevelled appearance. She cast Bakura a queer look. "Who's this?"

Again, Ryou fidgetted, smiling awkwardly. "He's my... roommate," he replied after a long, thoughtful pause. Atem sighed softly in silent exasperation. It was true enough, he supposed. Bakura looked equally dissatisfied with the explanation, if his shaking head was anything to go by.

Fujiko, on the other hand, seemed to be buying it for the moment. "How long has he been living with you?" she asked. "I'd think we would have heard something about a roommate by now, Ryou."

Atem could have sworn that he had heard Bakura swallow hard, and he smirked. It was always nice to see the thief put on the spot.

"Not too long," Ryou said. "We've known eachother for a while, now, but we just started living together."

Fujiko brightened as if she had suddenly realized something important. "He's the one who called us to bring Atem home, isn't he? He didn't mention that he was living with you." She nodded to Bakura, smiling. "I'm Yuugi's mother."

"Yeah, I know already," Bakura replied flippantly. "I'm Bakura."

"Two Bakus! How unexpected!" Fujiko exclaimed with an amused chuckle, clapping appreciatively and raising tiny puffs of dust. Atem laughed, but not with any real amusement. It was more a polite gesture than anything else. Fujiko turned to Bakura, her expression becoming more grave. "I hope you're aware that Ryou is my son's boyfriend."

Ryou shrunk into himself while Yuugi sidled up to him to provide support. Atem only sighed and gave Ryou the most reassuring look he could manage, rather than try to correct Fujiko for being so tactless. He didn't like the idea of being struck over the head with that ladle that Fujiko seemed able to conjure out of thin air.

Bakura grinned in a rather uncharacteristically warm manner and nodded. "How could I not be? He's crazy about Yuugi. Talks about him all the time."

"And you have no problem?" Fujiko asked, hands on her hips.

"Of course I don't," Bakura said, shrugging and stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Not my place to judge."

"Good!" Fujiko said, brightening again. "And don't think you can try to steal him away, either." Atem couldn't be sure if she was kidding or not.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Bakura said, remaining calm and indifferent, at least outwardly.

Fujiko raised an eyebrow, apparently put off by Bakura's attitude. "That's good, I suppose," she said, and paused as if considering something. "You've got a bit of an accent, don't you? Where are you from, exactly?"

A cold chill rushed down Atem's back. If Fujiko started asking questions, would she find out who he and Bakura were? No, it wouldn't be that easy to unravel. Would it? Oh, god...

"Mama, can you interrogate Bakura later? We'd kind of like to get going. Please," Yuugi piped up. Atem heaved a sigh of relief and slouched forward. Saved. Bakura didn't look fazed. Bastard.

Yuugi's mother folded her arms and harrumphed. "Fine," she said. "You go. But I'll remember this the next time you want to have friends over."

"Yes, Mama," Yuugi said, grabbing Ryou's hand and tugging the other boy toward the door in spite of mumbled protests.. "Bye Mama, Jiichan!"

After a long (and awkward, between Anzu's labored small talk and Jounouchi's paranoid questioning of Bakura) walk, they finally arrived at the mall. Atem's feet were getting sore by that time, and he wasn't exactly looking forward to milling around the mall for the next few hours and irritating them more. However, he was definitely looking forward to a trip to the arcade. He tried to break away from the group and head to the arcade, but soon found himself hauled back by the hem of his shirt.

"C'mon, Atem," Jounouchi said, still tugging the pharaoh's shirt as he dragged him along behind the group. "We came here to spend time together, and you're going to stay with us. The arcade can wait."

Atem frowned and allowed himself to be dragged. "How did you know that that was where I was going?" he asked.

"Simple. I know you," Jounouchi said with a grin. "Whether you're in a new body, or still sharing Yuugi's, you're still the same obsessive guy."

The pharaoh smiled awkwardly, suddenly feeling a bit embarassed. "Ah... I know," he said, stepping up beside Jounouchi. "I just lived for dueling and games for so long that it's hard to do much else, now."

"You've got us to teach you," Jounouchi said, wrapping Atem in a spontaneous bear hug and practically lifting him up off the floor. "You're gonna get used to having a nice, normal, peaceful life. Uh, after all this crap is done with, of course."

Atem nodded slowly, though a lump formed in his chest at the mention of a 'normal' life. "I don't know if I'll have a life after this, Jounouchi-kun," he murmured after a long pause.

"Eeeeh!" Jounouchi exclaimed. "Why the Hell not? You don't have to sacrifice yourself, do you?"

"We're not supposed to be here, Jounouchi-kun," Atem said. He shrugged, trying his best to seem indifferent to the loss. "We were supposed to be dead. We're just here to finish something. That's all."

The taller boy stomped his foot and clenched a fist with a snarl. "No way!" he snapped, causing Atem to jump a bit. The pharaoh stood in place, in awe of his friend's sudden outrage. "There's no way I'd let them take you away if you're happy here! They can take _him_, but not you; you deserve another chance!"

Atem shrunk back with a frown. "Jounouchi-kun..."

"What?" Jounouchi asked, falling out of his righteous stance and cokcing hsi head to the side like a confused cat.

"Thank you," Atem said. He scuffed the toe of his shoe against the floor. "Just..."

"Just what?" Jounouchi pressed. He gave Atem's arm a light tug to keep him moving. The rest of the group was waiting impatiently by a store window up ahead.

Atem didn't answer him, choosing instead to look straight ahead and wonder to himself. If he deserved a chance to start over, why didn't Bakura? It wasn't as if Bakura had known exactly what he was doing for all those years. He had been used, and... ah. it wasn't worth thinking about. Not worth bogging his mind down when he should be enjoying himself.

To Atem's mild mortification, Anzu hailed him the moment he and Jounouchi came within arm's length of the group. The bastard thief even laughed; Yuugi only smiled.

"Where'd you try to sneak off to?" Anzu asked, tone teasing and playful. "You're not tired of us already, are you?"

"Of course not," Atem replied with a laugh. He cringed at how humiliatingly awkward he sounded. "I just wanted to check if the arcade had gotten any new games."

"Lots!" Yuugi said cheerfully. "They've even got some new shooting games. We could go check it out, if you want. Er... after we look for some new clothes for you and the other Bakura."

Everyone in the group but Anzu, Yuugi, and Ryou seemed to slouch a bit at that news. Atem and Jounouchi were particularly disappointed.

"Why do we have to go clothes shopping of all the dumb things?" Jounouchi whined.

"You don't have to come!" Anzu said, hand on her hips. "You can go play games, and we'll come get you for lunch after we're through."

"Fine," Jounouchi grumbled. He folded his arms over his chest and pouted. "But you'd better not take all day. And gimme some change."

Naturally, Atem was still being dragged from store to store after two full hours. Yuugi and Ryou had sneaked off earlier, taking Bakura with them and leaving Atem alone with Anzu. So far, she was greatly enjoying treating him like a little living doll. Being on his own with Anzu made the morning even more frustrating than the constant changing from outfit to outfit did. The way she touched him casually and smiled at him for no good reason made his stomach tie itself up in elaborate knots. Gods, she was so great, but he just didn't... or did he? He sighed as he turned about before the mirror in the changing room. Well, at least she knew good places to shop for cheap clothes that didn't look ridiculous.

Why in the world had he said 'yes'? He had hardly even spoken to Anzu since they broke away from the group, so how was he supposed to keep conversation up when they were alone for an entire day? There had been a lot of smiling, nodding, and one-worded replies on his part, but Anzu had done all the talking. The words just seemed to freeze in his throat whenever he thought of something to say, and his jaw snapped shut before they could un-freeze. He smoothed his shirt down compulsively as he looked down at the jeans Anzu had picked out for him. They were nice and cheap for having little belt decorations around the ankles, but they were most likely in a girl's size. Or a child's size, but that was less-likely. Clothes shopping, he was finding out, was one of the many, many times he didn't like being so thin and small.

"You didn't get lost in there, did you?" Anzu asked from the other side of the door. Atem jumped, his heart stopping hard at the sudden interruption.

"Ah... no," he said in the same awkward tone he'd spoken in since they had seperated from the group. He opened the door and peeked his head out. "I'm coming out now, okay?"

Anzu giggled, smiling and beckoning to him. "Yeah, yeah. Quit trying to stall for time," she said.

"Right..." Atem murmured, stepping out of he small room and standing still for inspection. Anzu gave him a quick looking over before she nodded.

"Those look really cute on you," she said. Atem felt his face heat up at being called 'cute'. "Go change back into your old clothes. I'll pay for these, all right?"

"I couldn't ask you to do that!" Atem said sternly, shaking his head.

"You're not asking for anything," Anzu said. "Besides, those are on sale, and I've got a discount card here."

"But-"

"Go change."

Atem sighed and hung his head as he padded back into the changing room, emerging moments later. Anzu paid while he stood in the background and milled over his thoughts. After that, he was dragged off again. He twirled one of his jagged bangs around his index finger as they walked, fidgetting constantly. It seemed that every time Anzu said something, he felt more and more... not trapped, really, but he was close. Anzu was nosing through a discount rack when Atem decided that it was time to make his escape.

"I think I'm gonna go for a walk," he said before gingerly turning on his heel and starting to walk off.

"Where're you going?" Anzu asked. Atem felt his heart sink and his resolve waver when the corners of her mouth turned down in a concerned frown.

He shrugged, trying his best to look indifferent. "Just... going," he said lamely. "I've got a lot on my mind."

He took off in a random direction; he would never be able to leave if he stayed to hear her reply. The mall chattered around him, helping to drone out the thoughts buzzing around in his head. He plowed ahead thoughtlessly, fearful of becoming idle. Escalators were nothing to him in this state; they were just difficult staircases. It was too hard. Since he and Bakura had arrived back in the land of the living, everything had been so hard. It almost made him sick with shame to think that a _girl_ of all things was what had brought it all into focus. He practically dove into the crowd around the food court, thankful for the cover of milling bodies and the din of mingling voices.

Living was too hard.


	19. Touchy Feely

My dear sweet god, I'm alive. Shocking, wouldn't you say? I'll be the first to say that this chapter is filler trash. It's a cheap series of laughs to keep you entertained while I upload the next chapter, which actually contains some exposition.

And before I get any reviews asking: Yes, there are children who do this to people. They are the bane of humanity.

---

**Sesen chapter 19: Touchy Feely**

"Just what makes you think I'm ever going to wear something like this?" Bakura asked, slumping into a too-small chair beside the changing booth. He'd gotten carted off by Ryou and Yuugi, and it felt like he had been trying on sweaters and button-up shirts for hours. He wrestled the newest sweater off and tossed it into the growing pile of things he refused to wear.

Ryou forced another button-up at him and sighed. "They're cheap, and you can make a lot of outfits out of them," he said, as if it should be obvious. "Some sensible shirts, a couple of sweaters, and an extra pair of jeans."

"I don't need a stupid sweater," Bakura grumbled. He unbuttoned the shirt and put it on over his clothes, muttering.

"You're from Egypt," Yuugi piped up as he browsed one of the racks. "Believe me, winter in Japan will bother you."

Bakura snorted while Ryou straightened his shirt. "I hope to avoid winter," he said. "I'll be done with this bullshit before then."

"Don't talk like that," Ryou said sternly, turning Bakura to face the mirror. "I'm not buying you much, but I don't want you... acting like you're going to die again."

Bakura saw Yuugi walk up to Ryou and cup his hand discreetly. He watched in the mirror as Ryou leaned into the touch and smiled sadly. It was striking to see the two acting so tenderly, especially in public.

"You know I have to go back," Bakura said, unbuttoning the shirt and tossing it into the 'accepted' pile. He sighed. "I'm already here when I shouldn't be."

Bakura jumped when Ryou grabbed his wrist and glowered up at him. He couldn't believe that he had once so completely dominated this boy...

"No, I don't know that!" Ryou hissed. "Nobody knows that because nobody's told you." He pressed his lips together in a thin line. "I don't want you to go. I don't think you have to go."

Yuugi was at Ryou's side again, giving Bakura the same half-sad, half-angry glare. Bakura could only imagine that he had reminded Yuugi that Atem would also have to leave once their business on Earth was through. Bakura grumbled and grabbed another shirt up.

"Ryou, I- "

"Don't say anything, Bakura," Ryou said with a sigh. "Just... Just pretend that you won't go."

Bakura sighed and swore under his breath. "I won't go," he said, hoping to appease the boy for the time being. "Can I get out of modelling, for now?"

Ryou only shook his head with a sad smile and folded the clothes that Bakura had rumpled. Yuugi laughed and walked over to help.

"I think we've got a good idea of your size, now," Yuugi said. "We'll get you something cute while you wander around."

Bakura tch'd and turned to walk off, trying not to imagine what kind of ridiculous, FRUiTS-inspired outfit Yuugi would convince Ryou to buy. He had already found a pleasted skirt in Ryou's room, and he knew damn well that Ryou never let any females guests take their clothes off if he could help it. He paused as a horrible thought crossed his mind.

"No hot pants!" he called back at the couple.

"But they're so comfortable!" Yuugi called back, feigning a pout. "And why waste a nice ass?" he added with a leer.

Bakura shuddered and sneaked out of the store. Sometimes he truly missed the shy, almost repressed Yuugi. Maybe the corruption he had blamed on Yuugi went both ways between the pair.

He skulked through the bustling crowds in the mall in search of some form of entertainment. The arcade was tempting, but he only had so much pocket money to either go to the arcade or eat, so that was out of the question. He found some amusement in the little force field he seemed to have developed. The shoppers parted in his path, some of them going so far as to scatter off into nearby stores and mutter amongst themselves. He chuckled. People could be amusing, sometimes.

A small crowd of middle school kids outside the arcade didn't do him the honor of moving out of his way. In fact, they started chartering rather loudly after he passed, and eventually approached him as quickly as their little legs would allow. Bakura was immediately suspicious. A group of children surrounding a mark wasn't an uncommon pocket picking tactic in his day. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and glowered down at them as the babbled amongst themselves. Bakura didn't catch much of the conversation, but he could only assume that they were trying to elect someone to talk to the Big Scary Foreigner. They eventually tossed one boy out of their little collective, and he stumbled toward Bakura, stammering the whole time.

"Can we see it?" he asked timidly. His friends giggled and cheered him in whispers.

Bakura cocked his head to the side in confusion, watching the children closely. "See what?" he asked.

The giggling from the tiny crowd of onlookers grew louder as their spokesperson struggled for his next statement.

"Your penis," he said, as if he was asking an on-and-off friend if he could come over and play Playstation after school. "Foreigners have big ones, and we've never seen one like that."

Bakura reeled back in disgust and turned to leave them. "No, you sure the Hell can't!" he snapped.

His retreat was halted by one of the boys throwing himself around his ankles and shouting for him to wait. A set of small hands at thezipper of his jeans alerted him to their plan, and he acted swiftly, grabbing the boy by the collar of his shirt and hauling him up. Unfortunately, his friends were more than happy to take his place, all trying to cop a feel at once. He stumbled back to avoid them, almost tripping over the boy who had thrown himself at his feet. He held the boy he had captured up high and glared down at the others, who had ceased their greedy grabbing for the moment.

"Touch me again, and I play kancho with your little friend here," he declared loudly, shifting the very frightened boy into a headlock.

The boy wriggled and whined pathetically. "You wouldn't do that, you idiot! You're not a little kid!"

Bakura held his first two fingers out before the boy's face and smirked dangerously. "Can you be so sure I care?" he asked.

By then, his friends were slackjawed statues, not even more to help their friend. Bakura gave the boy a harsh slap on the ass before tossing him back down, watching his friends break out of their collective trance and scatter. The boy scrambled to his feet and followed seconds later. Bakura laughed to himself as he zipped his jeans back up and walked off, wondering just why the Hell Japanese schoolkids had such a fascination with other peoples' anatomy.

Of course, he still didn't have anything to do. He could always see if he could find a pharaoh to harass...


	20. Old Friends in New Ways

Here we are, lads, the twentieth chapter. I'd like to say thank you to anyone who's still reading this. And before we begin: I make no apologies.

---

**Sesen chapter 20: Old Friends New Ways**

Atem wandered the crowded mall, still searching for something, anything, to get his mind off of Anzu and life in general. The arcade was out of the question. He figured that the rest of his friends would be waiting there, and he didn't feel that he could bear to be near any of them.

He ducked into a toy shop and mechanically browsed the merchandise. There wasn't anything that he wanted to buy. Yuugi's grandfather might strangle him for spending money at another store. After over a half hour of browsing, he gave in to his usual compulsion and bought a single packet of cards before wandering out again. He tucked the packet into his pocket with plans to open it with Yuugi later on and resumed his aimless meandering, allowing his thoughts to wander.

His self-searching was short-lived, ending abruptly when he was tackled from behind. Slender, dark arms wrapped themselves around his waist to keep him from falling. His mind flew into hysterics, manufacturing all sorts of awful scenerios that could possibly play out from this.

"Bakura, that had better be you," he said, cautiously turning. A familiar face framed in pale blonde hair greeted him, smiling brilliantly. He had never pictured him as a hugging person. "M-Malik-kun?!"

"Mmhmm!" Malik affirmed, taking a step back. The outfit wasn't anything outlandish as far as Malik's clothes went. In fact, the spaghetti-strap top over a t-shirt was modest compared to the midriff-bearing shirt he had worn in Battle City. The skirt was... a little much. "What're you doing here?"

_What're you doing in a skirt?_ Atem nearly blurted out. "It's... complicated," he said after a moment's thought. "I may not be here for long, though."

Malik sighed, disappointed. "Why not?" he asked.

"I've got business to tend to, and I may have to... go back home after I'm through with it," he said. He looked Malik over, becoming aware of the slight curve to his chest. Something was very, very off about this whole situation. "Malik, what's... erm?" He pointed to him, trying to concentrate the gesture on his chest as words failed him.

Malik laid a hand on his chest and smiled almost embarrassedly. "I made a really big decison not long after you left," he explained softly. "Once I got some time to think about it, I really feel more comfortable this way."

Atem blinked twice and stared for a moment, his eyes darting between Malik's face and chest rapidly. "As...? Does this mean that I should call you Malik-chan from now on?" he finally asked, softly.

"Maybe you could," Malik said with a coy grin, hugging him again. "I'm still male from the waist down, though, but I'm getting that fixed, soon."

Atem flushed hotly as he suddenly became unbearably aware of the additions to Malik's anatomy. The implications of the words 'getting that fixed' didn't help him calm down. "S-so what do Rishid and Isis think of all this?" he asked in a desperate attempt to start a meaningful conversation.

"I think Rishid likes having another younger sister," Malik joked. "But they've both gotten really protective." She wilted slightly. "I can only leave the apartment alone for so long at a time, and I can't ride my bike until... well, a long time. Isis says that therapy and procedures are too expensive for something to happen to me."

"They just want to take care of you now that everything's normal," Atem said as he casually slipped out of her embrace. "Well, as normal as things can get for us."

Malik toed the floor with her heeled shoes and nodded sheepishly. "Yeah, you're probably right," she mumbled before perking up again. "Are you hungry? We could get something to eat before I have to go home again."

"Well..." Atem began, trying his very best to think of a way to excuse himself without hurting Malik's feelings. His stomach answered for him, snarling softly and demanding food. He sighed. "I never imagined you'd be offering me lunch, but okay."

"Think of it as me making up for trying to kill you," Malik said dismissively as she waved for him to follow. "I'm not paying for anything too expensive, though."

They settled down at a too-small table in the middle of the food court after some bickering over what to eat. Atem almost gleefully unwrapped his hamburger and took a huge bite out of it while Malik sipped at her coffee, legs crossed. His stomach grumbled again as he licked the sauce from his lips and nibbled his fries. He hadn't realized just how hungry he had been until Malik mentioned food. Several moments passed in relative silence until Malik piped up.

"Why are you here, Atem?" she asked, setting her cup down and setting her face in a serious expression. "I've got every right to know. I'm still connected to all this, whether I like it or not."

The former pharaoh fidgetted, swallowed, and took a long drink from his soda. Malik was right; she was still technically involved in the business with the Items, but did that mean that he should divulge such important information over _lunch_?

"I told you it was complicated," he mumbled. "Explaining it all might take too long."

Malik laid a hand on his and frowned. "Explain what you can," she said. "Even if it's not the whole story."

Atem sighed and took another sip of his drink as he considered his options. He could tell Malik just enough to sate her curiosity, or he could deny her and be pestered for the remainder of his stay on Earth. At the moment, he really couldn't stand much more Malik.

"The other Bakura and I are here to prevent something awful from happening," he said, trying to keep his statements vague. "The situation could get very dangerous if we fail."

"And what situation is that?" Malik asked. Damn, she was persistant.

The former pharaoh fidgetted in his seeat and continued to eat nervously. "It's just something with the Items again," he said, as if even that was supposed to sound insignificant enough to satisfy her. "We were told that we would be the best for the job."

"Who told you?" Malik pressed, eyeing him over the steaming cup under her nose. "And what job? You're using guarded language for a reason."

"The gods told us." Atem murmured, afraid of being overheard.

"And what is this job that you're supposed to be doing?"

"Someone is trying to recreate them," Atemu practically whispered, sinking into the molded plastic chair and sighing.

Malik jumped up from her chair and slammed her hands down on the table, causing Atem's soda to do an amusing dance. "What!?" she exclaimed. "And you intended to keep this from me! I can't believe it!"

"Hey, I don't know who I can trust anymore!" Atem countered, hauling himself out of his slump. "And excuse me for assuming you might not be the right person to tell."

Malik shot him a hateful glare before setting herself back down. "You still think I'm him, don't you?" she asked in a small, miserable voice.

"Who?"

"Don't play stupid! The other one!" Malik snapped harshly. She took another sip of her coffee and sighed. "He's still in my head somewhere. I work hard at it, and he's impotent without the Rod, but..."

"I'm sorry," Atem said softly. He reached out to clutch the girl's hand, but backed away, looking off to the side. "It's just that I don't even know what I'm doing."

Malik gave another dramatic sigh and pouted. "It's all right," she said. "I guess I can't really blame you." She paused. "Where is the other Bakura now?"

"Probably off somewhere with Bakura-kun and Yuugi," Atem said, trying his best not to sound envious. "Bakura-kun seems to have adopted him, oddly enough."

"I always thought that he missed him," Malik mused, finishing her coffee and flinging the flimsy paper cup into a nearby waste basket. She reached over and plucked a few fries from Atem's plate with a cheeky grin. "It's good that he's got somebody to keep him company when Yuugi isn't around."

Atem didn't mourn the loss of his food long. Malik had paid for it, after all, and it was good to see him happy for once. Her. To see her happy. The change would be very difficult to adapt to, and he had just realized that.

"I don't know if Yuugi would like it if Bakura gave Bakura-kun the same kind of company that he does," Atem said with a small laugh.

Malik smiled knowingly. "I don't know. He might find that he likes that sort of company. After all, they have quite the open relationship."

"What do you mean by that?" Atem asked, greedily gulping at his soda.

"Oh, something Yuugi said about being able to see other people as long as Ryou knew the other person and was comfortable with them," Malik said.

Atem sputtered on his soda as Malik continued uninterupted.

"Of course, Yuugi won't let me near Ryou," she said with a sigh. "He's so damn protective."

When Bakura appeared behind Malik, Atem was still too busy coughing and snorting to take notice.

"What's all this about an open relationship?" he asked slyly, only further agitating Atem's coughing fit. The pharaoh glared up at him and managed to hiss out a pitiful 'shut up.' Bakura leaned in close to Malik and grinned. "Nice to know you remember me, though."

"How long have you been skulking around back there?" Malik sneered, tossing a hateful look over her shoulder. Atem cringed when he saw Bakura's gaze shift from Malik's face to her chest.

The thief blinked, raised an eyebrow, and opened his mouth a bit. "Malik, did you put on some weight?" he asked before Atem had the chance to properly shut him up.

Malik shot him a look that communicated nothing but the intent to murder before turning away and folding her arms. "No, I didn't," she said haughtily. "And what's with the hot new body? Who'd you filch that one from?"

" It was a gift. So those are yours or what?" Bakura asked, seemingly unaffected by the question.

"Yes!" Malik snapped up at him. "All mine, all flesh. Any other questions?"

"Several," Bakura said without hesitation. "First of all, what do you plan to do with a dick in addition to those?"

"Bakura!" Atem hissed, sniffing loudly as his nose burned from all the soda he had coughed up.

"I won't have to worry about that for very long," Malik said smoothly, not missing a beat. That seemed to shut Bakura up. Malik turned her attention back to Atemu with a sigh. "Now, I want you to tell me everything about this business with the Items."

Bakura bristled. "You told Malik?" he asked, glaring at Atem before the pharaoh shushes him with an equally potent glower.

Atem drew in a huge breath to relax himself before proceeding to carefully explain the entire mess - or most of it, at least. He still didn't understand some of the details. Bakura occasionally interjected, which irritated Atem, as it upset the pace that he was trying so hard to maintain. He finally released the breath once he had finished talking, feeling drained but relieved.

"Do you need my help?" Malik asked once Atem had finished unloading the information. So much for that feeling of relief.

"Absolutely not!" Bakura said. "There are too many innocent people wrapped up in this insanity as it is, and you wouldn't be of much use anyway."

Malik folded her arms and scowled willfully, glaring at them both - just as a deep voice spoke up behind Bakura. "Malik-sama, it's time we went back to the museum," the voice said. Malik wilted, and Bakura turned to find himself face to face with Rishid.

"Hi," was the only thing the thief could think to say before he stepped off to the side, obviously unsettled by the fact that Rishid had been able to creep up on him like that.

"Hello, Rishid," Atem said, bowing his head slightly and smiling. He'd at least try to show Bakura up as far as politeness was concerned while he was here.

The older man's eyes widened as if he had just noticed Atem. He was far less intimidating in plain clothes, and the quizzical expression on his face was almost laughable.

"Pharaoh!" he exclaimed, bowing and very nearly slapping Bakura with his ponytail in the process. "I thought that you had passed on over a year ago!"

"It's a long story," Bakura said, muttering "Go get a damn hat," under his breath.

"I'll explain at home, Rishid," Malik said, getting up with a sigh. "It takes longer to explain than we probably have."

Rishid rose back to his full height, shaking off the shock of seeing Atem alive. "We would have more time if you hadn't turned your cellphone off," he said. "Your sister is not pleased, to say the least."

Malik muttered an apology and handed Atem a small slip of paper before walking over to Rishid. She gave a tiny bow to Atem, neglecting Bakura entirely. "Thank you for eating with me."

Atem hopped up from his seat to return the bow, earning a laugh from the thief. "Thank you for the meal," he said with a broad smile. He would have thanked her for the opportunity to be away from Anzu, but that would have required even more explanation.

The pharaoh sighed as he watched Malik and Rishid walk away, gripping the bit of paper in his hand. He finally unfolded it once they were out of sight, just as Bakura sidled up beside him.

"What'd he give you?" the thief asked, peering over his shoulder.

"A phone number."


	21. Unfolding

**Author's Notes: **Okay, here's some more delicious pulp for you to enjoy. As usual, I'm very thankful for any reviews that I **do** receive. I really have no excuse for the long waiting period between updates.

* * *

**Sesen Chapter 21 - Unfolding**

For the remainder of the afternoon, Bakura more or less skulked around the mall, following Atem. He hadn't expected to find himself chumming around with the pharaoh, but Atem seemed to be the perfect companion at the time.

Not that he would admit that.

After several trips to shops that, for the most part, held no interest to him whatsoever, Bakura flopped onto one of the tiny, useless benches that littered the mall. He squirmed into a more comfortable position, only to be nudged out of it when Atem decided to join him. The thief winced when Atem's elbow connected with his battered side, glaring death at him.

"Watch it, asshole," he snarled, trying and failing to scoot further to the side. Damned tiny benches.

"Sorry," Atem mumbled. He let out an exaggerated sigh. "You still hurt from the fight on the bridge, don't you?"

Bakura sneered. "I'm just tender, that's all," he said defensively. "It's not like I haven't had worse."

Before the words had left Bakura's mouth, Atem turned to him with a familiar expression of determination, his brows furrowed in concentration and his mouth screwed up in a scowl .

"You wouldn't have been hurt at all if I hadn't been so foolish," he nearly snapped.

Bakura almost chortled. "Don't even start that," he said sternly. "You can beat yourself up over it all you want, but it won't make any difference."

"What do you mean?" Atem shot back. Why he seemed so angry about being forgiven, Bakura could only imagine.

"I mean it doesn't matter," Bakura said, quickly growing annoyed. "If I weren't beat all to hell right now, Ryou would probably be dead. Just drop it."

Atem slumped. "Sorry," he mumbled before brightening. "But we're all alive, though."

"So shut up about it," Bakura said, hopping up from the bench and sauntering off. He'd had more than enough idle banter. "C'mon, maybe we can actually convince our captors to take us home."

A hand clasped his from behind and pulled him back, and he immediately cringed.

"Don't do anything stupid like that again. I can take care of things now that I'm well," Atem said sternly, tightening his grip on his hand. Bakura sneered.

"And don't you tell me what to do!" the thief snapped as he snatched his hand back. "And don't you ever grab me without my express fucking permission."

He then stomped off, hands stuffed in his pockets as he muttered obscenities to himself. For once, Bakura had no desire to sling verbal abuse at the pharaoh; he only wanted to go home to a restful evening at home with Ryou. He shouldn't have to answer to that whiny runt, damn it. Of course, he knew that it wouldn't be so easy to shake Atem, and the little monarch caught up to him in no time.

"What's your problem?" the pharaoh asked. "I'm just trying to look out for your best interests."

"You're trying to be a martyr who saves the day," Bakura firmly corrected. "You're so fucking into your little hero act that you can't stop yourself."

The pharaoh recoiled as if stung and set his face in an angry scowl. "It's not that," he insisted, still following Bakura closely. "You deserve... you deserve to be safe. You deserve a happy life here, while you've got it. Nobody else but Bakura-san and I seem to care about that."

Once Atem had finished stammering out his statement, Bakura could only stare ahead and blink. After a moment, he found the presence of mind to speak.

"You're full of shit," he said sagely. "You never gave half a damn about my happiness before now, and I doubt you really care now. All you want is to play your role and get a clear conscience for when you go back to your cheerful little afterlife of idleness and good food. Now shut up, for the last damned time."

Atem looked as if he wanted to say something, but stopped himself, his mouth opening and then immediately closing. He looked like some ridiculous cartoon of a puffer fish. Bakura snickered and pressed on, content.

By the time they found the rest of the group, everyone had gathered near the entrance of the arcade. Anzu aimed a disapproving glare at Atem as they approached, and Bakura couldn't help but snicker. He sidled over to Ryou, Jounouchi's eyes following him all the while, and watched Atem try to slink past Anzu and stand sheepishly next to Yuugi. Even the might pharaoh could be knocked down to nothing in the face of a cranky woman.

"You were gone an awfully long time," Anzu said, still eyeing the pharaoh. "Did you get lost?"

"No, I just lost track of time," Atem replied, nodding for no apparent reason. He looked trapped, and no one was really jumping in to rescue him.

"What, hanging out with him?" Anzu asked, giving a little laugh and jerking a thumb at Bakura.

"Sort of," Atem admitted, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"We were going to stay here a little longer and catch up to you later," Bakura piped up, shooting Atemu a look that promised salvation from a long walk henpecked by his not-girlfriend.

Thankfully, Atem caught on fast. "We wanted to walk around a little longer," he said. "It'll still be light out when we get back, so..."

"Have fun," Yuugi said, already hauling Ryou off. The white-haired boy followed without much resistance, which boggled Bakura's mind. Thin fingers grabbed his hand, tugging.

"C'mon, let's go," Atem said

Bakura followed, thoroughly embarrassed by the fact that he was being led by the hand away from a crowd of tittering teenagers. Ryou turned to wave before dashing off with Yuugi.

A gloomy sight awaited them as they left the mall. Clouds had rolled in, blotting out much of the sunlight that spring usually brought. Puddles littered the street, and Bakura had the misfortune of stepping right into one, He shook his foot violently and muttered under his breath while that bastard pharaoh only laughed.

"You wanna get dunked in one of these?" Bakura said, carefully stepping over the puddle. Atem shut up quickly, much to the thief's satisfaction.

The first block of their trek home passed in silence, save for the occasional squeak from Bakura's water logged sneaker. He pried it off, opting to carry it and shuffle along rather than listen to that stupid sound. Considering it useless to walk around with damp cloth wrapping his foot, he removed the sock as well and stuffed it into the sneaker.

"Even your feet are kind of skinny," Atem said, directing his gaze downward.

Bakura scowled. Atem was right, of course. Everything about his body reflected the harsh life that he had lived before the Ring swallowed up his soul. His entire frame was wiry; powerful, but without a scrap of fat. His hands and feet were especially bony.

"You'd be skinny, too," the thief said. "Not like I had people paid to keep meat on me."

To Bakura's great surprise, Atem's spiny little head whipped around. "Are you just looking for a reason to start a fight with me?" he asked, frowning.

Bakura could only chuckle and shake his head. Oh, the pharaoh made it too easy.

"Don't just ignore me!" Atem snapped. "What's your problem?"

"Pharaoh, you just don't get it," Bakura said, rolling his eyes. "I just don't like you."

"That isn't true," Atem said, smiling that sickening, confident smile of his. Bakura could have spit in his face...

They walked in silence again, and Bakura eventually removed his other shoe. His bare feet slapped on the wet concrete of the sidewalk as they made their way through the thinning crowds. Before long, the bustling streets of the commercial district gave way to residential streets populated mostly by the last few stragglers bicycling home from a day out with friends. One of them whizzed by Bakura, causing him to hop back and swear hatefully in his direction. A hand on his arm interrupted his tirade. He turned to see Atem yanking on his arm and looking off across the street, into an alleyway.

"It's been following us," Atem said, his voice just barely above a whisper.

Bakura shivered at his tone and followed his line of sight. Obscured by a stack of overstuffed garbage bags, some sort of animal crouched in the alley. Bakura narrowed his eyes as he tried to make out the shape of the animal. Finally, he sighed.

"A dog?" he deadpanned. "It probably thinks we have food, you dipshit."

"It seems awfully sneaky for something that just wants a treat," Atem said, shrinking up against Bakura's side.

Bakura nudged him away, grumbling. "It's a stray; it's probably timid."

Atem scowled, and it was clear that he wouldn't be easily convinced. "It's stalking us," he hissed. Bakura chuckled privately; to think that the pharaoh was whispering around a dog. "After all that's happened, don't you think it's possible?"

"You're being ridiculous," Bakura said. He shook his head when he noticed the stern look Atem leveled at him. It was a lost cause. Grudgingly, he turned to approach the alley. "I'll check it out, okay?"

He waved off the pharaoh's stammered protest as he walked to the alley. Another group of stragglers on bicycles peddled by as he stepped onto the curb. The animal shuffled further back into its hiding place, as if trying to avoid being noticed. Bakura took one step into the alleyway and winced at a sudden pain in his foot. He glanced down to discover the shattered remains of one of those ridiculous glass soda bottles with the marble inside. A steady dribble of blood flowed from his foot, and he leaned on the wall beside him to lift his foot and remove the glass. Once he'd finished, he looked up again only to see the dog retreating, its black form disappearing around a far corner.

"Fucking dog," the thief grumbled as he hobbled back across the street. He left bloody partial footprints in his wake, and shot the pharaoh a dull look once he reached the other side of the street.

Immediately, Atem's gaze gravitated to Bakura's bloodied foot. The thief rolled his eyes, but oddly enough, Atem said nothing. They walked on, and every so often, Bakura noticed Atem's attention wandering to the alleys and sidestreets. Once, just before they reached Ryou's apartment buliding, Bakura could have sworn he had seen the dog watching them, peering around a nearby corner. He shook his head; it was impossible. The face had been at least four feet from the ground. He convinced himself that his eyes had played tricks on him, and limped into the lobby.

"Let Bakura-kun look at your foot," Atem said. He smiled and nodded his head, a sort of half-assed bow, and took his leave.

Bakura rolled his eyes and started his trek up to the sixth floor. On his way, he could feel the stares of the gaggle of old women who crowded around eachother in the lobby boring into the back of his skull. He didn't have to turn; he knew they were there. He grimaced when, once he'd taken all of three steps up the stairs, a withered old claw tugged on his sleeve. He turned his glaring glance down to the woman, and jumoed back at the sight of her. She scowled up at him, eyebrows knitted under a pair of tinted eyeglasses so ridiculously huge that she looked like some cross between Elton John and an overgrown fruit fly. He opened his mouth to ask just what the Hell she wanted, but was cut off mid-syllable.

"Young man," she said, forgoing any formal speech. "Are you Bakura-san's live-in friend?"

The thief blinked dumbly and let the laughter of the woman's friends (conveniently perched nearby, as vultures are wont to do) before replying. "I don't have time for this," he finally said, turning away.

"Oh, I think you do!" the old woman snapped, hobbling up after him. Bakura sighed. The old hag tapped his back with the little folded fan she carried. "Who was that other boy just now?"

"The Hell do you care?" Bakura hissed as he slapped the fan away.

The vulture got truly flustered then, and swatted Bakura's hand with the fan. She glared death at him and screwed her wrinkled lips into a puckered scowl. "I think that Bakura-san would care!" she said. "He trusts you enough to let you live with him, and you run around with a carbon copy of that last boy!" She took a deep, whistling breath as Bakura rolled his eyes again. "Bakura-san may be... strange, but he deserves to be happy!"

"You serious?" Bakura said with a scoff. He trudged up the stairs at a quick pace, hoping to out distance the old bitch. "If you honestly think I'm fucking Ryou, you're out of your age-ravaged mind."

"Don't you use that kind of language to an old woman!"

Bakura waved his hand dismissively and continued up the stairs, doing his fair share of limping as he went. By the time he made it to the sixth floor, his foot had started to bleed again. Splotches of blood followed him wherever he walked, leaving a trail of blotted red to Ryou's apartment door. The door swung open before he could even raise his hand to knock, and Bakura was greeted by Ryou glowering up at him.

"Am I late?" Bakura asked, shrinking back. Ryou could be oddly intimidating when angered.

The smaller boy slouched and sighed. "No, it's just..." He trailed off, and gasped. "What happened to your foot?"

Bakura looked down and sighed, regretting not replacing his shoe. "I stepped on something, that's all," he said as he inched into the apartment.

Ryou was upon him in an instant. He grabbed Bakura's hand and pulled him to the couch, seemingly oblivious to the little trail of blood smearing his clean floor. Bakura grunted as he was all but shoved onto the couch.

"Sit still," Ryou said, frowning deeply as he lifted and examined Bakura's foot.

Bakura snatched his foot back, snarling. "I'm not some little kid that needs to be cared for."

"Yes," Ryou said, gesturing to the blotted trail that Bakura had left through his living room. "But you're an oversized kid who's ruining my carpet. Give me your foot."

The thief snorted and reclined on the couch, resting his foot on Ryou's knee. He watched as the boy examined the wound and caused a good deal of irritation by searching it for any remnants of the glass he had stepped on.

After a few minutes of painful prodding, Ryou got to his feet with a sigh. "Stay still while I get a bandage, Bakura."

Bakura rolled onto his side as he watched Ryou walk away. The boy's posture seemed unusually slumped, even for someone as spooky and melancholy as Ryou. A few minutes later, his host returned with an armload of bandages and bottles Bakura was certain contained the same liquified pain that he had been subjected to after the fight on the bridge.

"A half hour walk home, and your feet are already dirtier than the streets they've been walking on," Ryou mused, an amused smile on his face as he lifted Bakura's foot into his lap. "I swear, you attract filth."

The thief sighed and fidgetted. Ryou had that damned bottle out. "What's bothering you?" he asked, giving Ryou a pointed look.

Ryou spritzed his foot with something that burned and sizzled. Bakura jumped. "It's nothing imprtant," the boy said. "Just me being me again."

"You haven't been this you since I left, unless I'm mistaken."

Ryou's gaze met them floor, and he fidgetted in his seat. He worried his lower lip and shook his head. "Yuugi and I had an argument on the way home," he admitted. He dabbed at his eyes and sighed. "We've both been on edge since you two showed up."

"Everyone's on edge," Bakura said. "It's not something to get upset about."

Ryou sniffed and applied a bandage to Bakura's stinging foot. "He started teasing Jounouchi-kun for taking Malik-_chan_ home. He said he should be able to take such a pretty girl home."

Bakura couldn't help himself; he let out a short laugh. "And that's your definition of an argument?" he said. "You really are histrionic sometimes."

"That's the problem!" Ryou exclaimed, falling back against the couch with a long, suffering sigh. "I took offense, and made a big deal out of it. Now he's mad at me."

The tombrobber sighed and pulled his uninjured foot back, tucking it under himself before he leaned against Ryou. He wrapped his arms around the other boy and chuckled. Ryou squirmed, but he held him fast. "You can be the silliest thing alive," he said. "You know you brought this on yourself, right?"

Ryou nodded, finally accepting Bakura's embrace. "That's the worst part," he murmured. "I overreact. I'm too much trouble to be bothered with, especially to someone like Yuugi."

"Don't say stupid things like that," Bakura said, tangling a hand in the smaller boy's hair. The way Ryou shrunk into himself at the word 'stupid' made the thief's heart hurt. "You're worth more than you give yourself credit for."

"Not to Yuugi," Ryou murmured. He snivelled and dabbed at the corners of his eyes. Bakura silently prayed that his sniffling wouldn't devolve into full-on bawling. "Yuugi's got his life in order. He's got friends, a loving family, and a bright future. After Atem-kun left, he developed a stronger ego, and could probably charm anyone he really wanted. He doesn't need me."

"What did I say about stupid things?" Bakura snapped. He lowered his eyes apologetically after the words left his mouth, and leaned heavily against Ryou. "He needs you because he loves you. You know better than I do how important that is."

The boy in Bakura's arms grew silent, clinging to him desperately. Bakura sighed and let him be.

"Don't leave," Ryou said a few moments later. His arms tightened around Bakura's body, and the thief could see fat, glistening tears forming at the corners of his eyes. He brushed the moisture away and sighed. "I need you here, Bakura."

Bakura lowered his gaze as he realized that he didn't exactly have the sort of nurturing skills that Ryou had used with him. He turned back to Ryou with a shaky smile, and brushed fresh tears from his host's face. "I can't make any promises," he said. "Besides, you have Yuugi."

"But for how long?" Ryou countered. To Bakura's discomfort, he proceeded to climb right into his lap and fix him with a pained, pleading look. "You don't have anything either, Bakura."

"Gee, thanks," the thief muttered, feeling vaguely insulted. He squirmed under Ryou, which only caused the smaller boy to giggle and cling to him. Ryou's lithe body settled against him, pressing their chests together. Bakura winced as the pressure agitated his wounds, but couldn't find the will to say anything.

Ryou looked down, as if hurt by the implications of Bakura's words. "I didn't mean for it to sound like that," he murmured. Again, that twisted feeling filled Bakura's chest. Ryou nuzzled his cheek and sighed, sending a soft shudder through his body. "You haven't got any of the things Yuugi does, and you still care about me."

"N-not in that wa-" Bakura's words died in his throat as one of Ryou's hands found its way under his t-shirt. Soft fingertips brushed over one of his nipples, and he experienced a sudeen rush that by all means he shouldn't have. The hand gravitated quickly to the bandage on his side, and Ryou smiled up at him impishly. "What're you doing?"

"You've never even considered it?" the boy asked, his tone innocent and soft as he lifted Bakura's shirt to inspect the dressing, totally ignoring the question. Bakura drew in a long breath as Ryou's delicate fingers peeled the dressing back.

Bakura shook his head and released the breath just as slowly. "No, of course not," he said, watching Ryou's movements carefully. He inhaled sharply as Ryou replaced the dressing and moved his hand over his toned chest again.

"You're lying," Ryou said with a soft, almost wistful smile. A powerful shudder raced up the thief spine as his host's fingernails grazed a nipple. "Remember, we've shared a body."

"Stop this," Bakura hissed, gently gripping Ryou's wrist and moving his hand. "You don't need to seduce me just because you had a fight with Yuugi."

His heart sank as Ryou sighed and pulled away. "I'm sorry," he murmured. He traced tiny circles on Bakura's leg with his index finger. "It's just... it's hard to know how long I'll have him. I want to have something to fall back on. I'm not strong enough to be alone, Bakura."

"He won't leave you," Bakura said as he pulled Ryou back into his arms.

"But if he does-"

"Hush." Bakura kissed his host's forehead softly, cradling him aganist his sore chest like a child. "I believe that he won't, but if he does..." Bakura trailed off, drawing his next breath carefully, inhaling Ryou's warm scent. "If he does, I'll try to be there for you."

The smaller boy sniffled and pulled away again, climbing out of Bakura's lap. Though Bakura would never admit it, he was quite relieved.

"Thank you, Bakura-san," he said softly, drying his eyes again. He turned his back to Bakura, and the thief watched his shoulder stop shaking. "I don't want you walking on your foot tonight. Give it time to start healing."

"I will," Bakura said as he lied flat on the couch, propping his feet on its arm.

"I'll be in my room studying if you need me, all right? Just yell." With that, Ryou walked off to his bedroom, leaving Bakura alone with his thoughts.

As soon as Ryou left the room, Bakura curled onto his side to sleep. The long day had drained his energy, and his encounter with Ryou's sexual side had done little to help matters.

When Bakura next awoke, his pulse thundered in his ears, every hair standing on end. Something in the darkened room had woken him up with a start. He scanned the room with sleepy red eyes and every muscle in his body drew taut in anticipation of an ambush.

He finally caught sight of something near the glass door leading out to the small terrace adjoining the apartment. There, just beyond the thin glass, glinted two sparks of green, hovering at least four feet above the floor.

In a flash, Bakura was on his feet and staggering toward the lightswitch on the wall opposite the couch. He tripped in the darkness, his shin making contact with the edge of the coffee table. He fell to the floor with a thud, and immediately looked over to the door.

The light of many Tokyo street lamps poured into the room as the tinted glass door slid aside.


	22. The Other Side of Unfolding

**Author's Notes: **Well, it seems I've finally settled back into the rhythm of writing more often. Not a moment too soon, either! I have to apologize for the relatively short chapter, though nothing really happens other than a bit more exposition.

**Sesen Chapter 22:** The Other Side of Unfolding

Atem sat quietly on his futon in the center of Yuugi's room as gunshots rang out around him. He pulled his knees up to his chest, his eyes darting over to Yuugi's huddled form. His other half sat on a cushion on the floor, motionless, his eyes fixed to the small television screen.

"Aibou?" he finally piped up. He sighed when Yuugi only grunted in reply. "Yuugi, I've never seen you play such violent games before."

The sounds of violence ceased as Yuugi paused the game and set down the controller. The frozen image on the screen showed that Atem had interrupted him in the middle of taking down a particularly nasty demon.

"I'm sorry, Atem," he said, his shoulders slumping. Yuugi fell back onto the floor with a sigh, his arms and legs spread out. "I can't get to sleep, and I'm really stressed. I didn't mean to keep you up like this."

"I can't sleep anyway," Atem admitted. The sighting of the strange dog had him unsettled, and sleep was the last thing on his mind. He had even considered calling Bakura's apartment, just to make certain that Ryou and the thief were safe, but the thought of how Bakura would react if his fears were unfounded had put a stop to that urge.

Yuugi nodded and rolled over to Atem's bed, smiling a thin, sad smile. "Ryou and I had a fight today," he said.

Atem gasped and reached out to his partner, placing a hand on the other boy's shoulder. "A fight? Aibou, what happened?"

"Don't grab on me, Atem; I'm not gonna start crying," Yuugi said, slowly sitting up and shaking Atem's hand off. "I said something stupid, and he took it seriously." He sighed. "It's happened before, but it's still so frustrating. He can be so... silly, sometimes."

"What did you say to him to make him mad at you?" Atem asked, curling onto the futon and frowning. He wanted to comfort Yuugi, but sensed that even attempting to do so would only annoy him.

"It's not important," Yuugi said, shaking his head. "It would only raise more questions, I think."

Atem nodded, though he was not convinced. "If you say so," he said. "Have you tried calling Bakura-kun?"

Yuugi sighed and shook his head. "He'd just get choked up and hang up the phone," he said, his tone implying that he knew from experience. After a moment, a devious expression came over his face. "So, how was your walk home with the thief, hm?"

The pharaoh blinked, boggled by the sudden change of topic. "Less than entertaining," he finally said, wringing his blanket in his hands. "The fool decided to walk home in bare feet, and ended up slicing his foot up."

"How'd he manage to do that?" Yuugi asked, obviously biting back a laugh.

"Well..." Atem began, worrying at the blankets again. Did he want to worry Yuugi by mentioning the creature that he and Bakura had encountered in the alley? Yes, he reasoned, he had to. Yuugi needed to be prepared, and he needed to know what to be cautious of should he see something strange. "We saw something unusual in an alley, and he went to investigate it. He cut his foot on some glass garbage."

Yuugi's eyes lit up, his brooding mood apparently forgotten. "What did you see?" he asked, showing a little too much enthusiasm for Atem's comfort.

"A dog," Atem said. "It was big, and it followed us for a long time before Bakura approached it."

"It's not unusual for dogs to follow people, Atem," Yuugi said, dismay evident in his voice as his enthusiasm dissolved. "It was probably-"

"I know!" Atem said, scowling. "It was probably a stray, right? That's exactly what Bakura said, but I know that he was wrong."

Yuugi rolled his eyes. "Then what was it?"

"I don't know," Atem admitted, fidgetting. He shuddered violently at the memory. "All I know is that, after Bakura chased it away, I kept seeing things out of the corner of my eye. Animal faces peeking around corners, almost as high off the ground as my own head."

His partner's face contorted in worry as he babbled away. Yuugi finally laid a hand on his arm to silence him, frowning deeply. "Atem, when did you last see that thing?" he asked.

"When I parted ways with Bakura," Atem said. As soon as the words left his mouth, a terribly realization came over him. "It's with Bakura," he murmured, eyes wide.

Yuugi jumped to his feet and dashed to his desk to pick up his phone. "We have to call and make sure they're all right," he said, hurriedly dialing Ryou's number. "Get our coats out in case we have to leave."

Atem nodded slowly, unused to taking orders. What else could he do?


	23. The Night Visitor

**Author's Notes:** Holy fangango, an update! Unfortunately, it's another puny chapter. Fear not, though, because the story is actually about to pick up in tempo again. If anyone is still reading this, good for you! Enjoy my paltry offerings.

**Sesen Chapter 23: **The Night Visitor

Bakura scrambled to get to his feet as the glowing eyes floated nearer to him. His breath came in short gasps as he groped along the wall for the light switch – only to have his hand connect with another. His breath caught in his throat, and he cried out in shock just as the room was illuminated, and he found himself face to face with a drowsy, startled Ryou.

"Ah! Bakura, what's going on? What was that sound?" he murmured, slowly blinking. Before Bakura could shove him back into his bedroom, back to safety, Ryou directed his sight behind Bakura. "Who's that?"

Slowly, Bakura turned to face the intruder. Instead of the menacing apparition he had expected, he found a small, dark-skinned man, barely even Atem's size. The man raised one hand in greeting and smiled sheepishly.

"Yo," the little man said. "Sorry about-"

"Don't just greet us like you were invited and showed up a little early!" Bakura snapped, causing both Ryou and the strange intruder to cringe. "Who the Hell are you, and what're you doing here?"

"You don't even recognize me!" the little man exclaimed. Two little black triangles flipped up from his straight black hair and twitched.

Both Bakura and his host froze at that moment, their gazes locked on the twitchy little protrusions. They glanced at eachother, momentarily dumbstruck, before turning back to the stranger.

"What's that on your head?" Bakura asked, raising an eyebrow and pointing.

As if he hadn't noticed them before, the man reached up and touched the top of his head and snickered. "Oooh, right," he said, a look of realization coming over his face. "Didn't think to tell you I've assumed this form. Er, temporarily."

"That didn't explain a damn thing!" Bakura snapped, feeling his right eye twitch. He took a deep breath and reminded himself that he had to contain himself, at least until Ryou left the room. "However, I can assume you're one of the bumbling ethereal idiots who sent me here. The one who can't type in any language?"

The diminutive god nodded. "That's hurtful. But yes."

Ryou gaped up at Bakura, his eyes shining with his usual morbid interest. "There's a god in my living room?" he said, voice full of wonder.

"He's nothing special," Bakura said, rolling his eyes and stepping up to Anubis. He prodded the shorter man in the chest and scowled down at him. "Now, you. What're you doing in my home?"

"My home," Ryou piped up sheepishly.

"Whatev," Anubis said flippantly. Bakura glared at him. "Um. Anyway, it's complicated, see."

Bakura folded his arms. "I'm listening," he said.

"Well, it's probably not safe for me to be instant messaging you anymore," Anubis said, his pointed ears flicking and twitching as he spoke. It seemed that they emoted more than his face.

"Dangerous?" Ryou murmured, placing a hand on Bakura's arm and causing him to jump. "What do you mean by that?"

"We think somebody might be monitoring you," Anubis said, the words pouring out of his mouth rapidly as his ears flattened against his head. "That's why I followed you home in secret and waited for it to get late before I came in."

Bakura unconsciously wrapped one arm around Ryou, feeling the smaller boy tense in his grasp. How could he have not noticed something as serious as someone spying on him in his own home? "Ignoring your creepy, stalker-like tactics, just who is this person?" the thief asked. He kept his grip tight on Ryou. His former host quickly took the opportunity to cling lightly to him, clenching a hand in his loose shirt.

Anubis slouched. "That's the thing," he said. "We don't really know who it is; we just know that there's been a man shadowing you since the incident on the bridge."

"So this man is so stealthy that not even the gods themselves can find him," Bakura said in a bland, deadpan voice. He smiled down at Ryou thinly, trying his best to look unaffected by this news. "You can't be serious."

"'Fraid so," Anubis said, worrying one of the golden cuffs on his wrist. "We're kinda strapped for resources and time as it is. Why do you think we can only send you guys to clean up messes down here?"

Bakura's eye twitched again."Let me get this straight," he said, balling up a fist as he exhaled slowly. "So you stalked me, scared the everloving fuck out of me, and broke into my home just to tell me that somebody's after us, and there's nothing you can do?"

"Uh.. pretty much," Anubis said, his ears flattening against his head again as he took a step back. "Well, I'll leave you to-"

Bakura cut his sentence short by gripping him by the collar of his printed t-shirt.

"I do not freakin' think so," the tomb robber snarled, hauling him back. "You're gonna tell us everything you know, and help us find this asshole. Or do I have to test just how authentic you new human body is?"

The god sighed dramatically and shook Bakura's hand off. "No need to get all violent and threatening like that," he said, straightening his shirt. "I don't know jack besides the fact that he's following you and not the pharaoh."

"Why us?" Ryou asked, clinging tighter to Bakura.

"I dunno," Anubis said, his flippant attitude returning as the threat of dismemberment was forgotten. "I'd be more aware if I were you, though. There's one more thing that's got me worried, and it may be related."

A long moment of silence passed before Bakura took hold of one of Anubis' funny little ears and shook him. "Don't just pause like you're building suspense; tell us what's going on!"

"Awright, awright!" Anubis whined, ducking his head to wrench his ear free. "We've lost track of the girl."

It took a moment for Bakura to register the words in his mind. "What?" he said, his grip on Ryou weakening. "What do you mean you've lost track of her?"

"She hasn't done anything since she tried to make off with your little friend," Anubis said. "Nothing at all. We haven't even noticed any minor activity like we did before we sent you in."

"So it's all bad news," Bakura said, slumping in place. Either the girl had dropped out existence, or she was preparing something. "And I'll wager you've got no advice to give us. Would I be right?"

"Just be careful," Anubis said. He closed his eyes as his body became translucent and more or less melted into an amorphous mass of light. Bakura and his host watched in awe as the light reformed as a large, black dog and bounded out the open glass door.

They followed in time to watch the beast vault over the railing. It had disappeared by the time they reached the railing, somehow falling six floors and bolting off in only a few seconds. Ryou's hand closed tightly around Bakura's as he stared out at the city.

"What are we going to do, now?" he said, leaning against Bakura and frowning.

"Go get your cell phone and call the pharaoh," Bakura said after a moment's consideration. He slipped his hand free from Ryou's and stepped back inside, limping once he became freshly aware of the pain in his foot. With the adrenaline rush from what he had imagined to be a home invasion fading, his body could once again concentrate on reminding him never to walk barefoot in the street again.

Ryou shuffled past him and into his bedroom. As Bakura crashed onto the couch, he could hear Ryou murmuring over the phone.

"I'm sorry I missed your call, Yuugi-kun," he heard his host say. "There was... we had a visitor. I can't say much, but please bring Atem-kun here as soon as you can. Yes. I'm sorry for making you worry, Yuugi-kun."


	24. An Uneasy Night

**Author's Notes:** Damn you, college! Damn you to some frigid, lonely Hell! I really would have liked to update on August 28th, which would have marked my third year writing this crazy story. This will have to do, as a belated anniversary present to the few original readers I have left.

Thank you, to anyone who's still reading. I've tried to create a story that's thought-provoking, and even a little offensive, without coming off as cliché or attention-seeking. Throughout the process of writing this story, I have sought to entertain myself and others by pushing at boundaries. Several reviews tell me that I've toed many personal lines. Some stayed, but I'm sure that a great many who didn't review at all simply said "Ew!" "Too weird!" or "What nonsense!" and left.

I'm not giving any of you who stayed a break. It only gets worse. Or does it get better?

**Sesen Chapter 24: **An Uneasy Night

"Yuugi!"

Atem bounced back before Ryou launched himself into Yuugi's arms, barely avoiding getting knocked over. He watched as Ryou buried his face in Yuugi's shoulder and sniveled, and reached out to touch the paler boy's shoulder.

"Bakura-kun, what happened?" he asked, peering over Ryou's shoulder and taking note of Bakura, sulking on the sofa, his feet propped up on one end.

"It's... It's better if we talk inside," Ryou said, stepping back.

Atem followed Yuugi inside and slipped his sneakers off. He waved to Bakura, receiving only an uninterested grunt in return. Damn cranky thief.

Even inside, Ryou hovered close to Yuugi, his fingers threaded together lightly with the other boy's. Atem settled beside the coffee table without mentioning it, not wanting to disturb them. Bakura frowned down at him before turning his gaze back up to the ceiling.

"Anubis showed up for a visit," the thief said in a dull, weary voice.

"What?" Atem said, his eyes widening as he looked to Bakura.

Ryou nodded and settled into the large armchair with Yuugi. Atem reflected, briefly, that at least their scrawny bodies allowed them to share a chair comfortably.

"He showed up past midnight to tell us that someone is watching us," the pale boy murmured. Atem could see Yuugi's arms tightening around Ryou.

"It's worse than that," Bakura sneered. "The useless shit can't even do anything to help."

"Don't speak ill of the gods, Bakura," Atemu said, though he couldn't help but think the same thing. The Neter hadn't done nearly enough to help them so far. They just fed tiny bits of information as soon as he and Bakura absolutely needed it.

Bakura snorted. "I'll say what I please," he said. "It's the truth."

"He said that someone has been watching us," Ryou murmured, curling against a concerned Yuugi. "He couldn't even tell us who."

Atemu swallowed, the thought sending a chill up his back. He didn't want to consider the possibility of some lunatic monitoring his every move.

"What can we do?" Yuugi asked as he stroked Ryou's hair.

"Just... keep your guard up," Bakura said. "That's the closest thing to advice I got out of the conversation."

Atem saw Yuugi's lip curl up into a sneer as he held Ryou close to his chest. "How absolutely useless," he mumbled. "Ryou, we're gonna stay around today. All right?"

Ryou just nodded, and Atem caught the glint of tears in the corners of his eyes.

"I'll call Jiichan," Atemu said, slowly gettign to his feet, only to stopped by Yuugi's hand around his wrist.

"Don't," his other half said in a low, distant voice. "They'll understand; it's nothing weird."

Atem just nodded and returned to his seat, somewhat unsettled by his partner's tone. He pulled his knees up to his chest and sighed. "This is ridiculous," he muttered.

"That's right, pharaoh," Bakura said. "You're catching on fast."

"Don't you start," the pharaoh sneered. He flinched when Bakura sat up, briefly assuming that the thief intended to throttle him.A soft sighed drew his attention to Ryou, still curled up against Yuugi.

"Don't either of you start," the pale boy murmured. His voice trembled slightly, betraying the frayed and strained staight of his nerves. "I know we need to find out who this person is, but I just want to rest tonight."

Yuugi nodded and stroked Ryou's hair, his expression soft and calm. "We should all try to rest a little," he said. "There's nothing we can do just yet."

"Says you," Atem heard Bakura mutter. He decided to ignore it.

Several minutes passed in silence before Bakura spoke up again. The sudden sound in a room where the only sound had previously been the dull hum of activity and conversation around the building startled Atem and Ryou. Yuugi seemed unaffected.

"I need to talk to you in private, pharaoh," the thief said, hurriedly and rather rudely grabbing Atem by the back of his shirt and tugging. Atem snarled and swatted at Bakura's hand, but was hauled to his feet anyway. As Ryou and Yuugi looked on. Bakura dragged Atem into the kitchen.

Atem wrenched away from Bakura once they reached the kitchen, glaring up at him haughtily. "Just what's the meaning of this?" he hissed. Bakura shushed him, and he lowered his voice. "Why must we speak in private?"

"I don't want Ryou to hear, that's why," Bakura said, looking from side to side – as if he expected his landlord to peek in the doorway at any moment.

"Hear what, though?" Atem said, raising an eyebrow. It wasn't in Bakura's nature to be so discreet.

"Lemme finish!" Bakura hissed, shaking a fist at Atem. "We need to start patrolling the area whenever we have the time. If some freak is stalking us, we have a responsibilty to stalk him right back."

Atem stared at him for a moment, processing the proposal. He finally sighed and shook his head. "It's not like I have school to worry about," he muttered. "How do you plan to go about this, though?"

The thief paused, looking thoughtful. Atem imagined that he hadn't even thought of that yet.

"I was thinking we could just search the building and the surrounding area," Bakura said after a few moments.

"And if we just drive him to more clever methods by being so obvious?" Atem asked, folding his arms. He could hardly believe how simple Bakura could be at times.

Bakura sputtered and glowered down at Atem indignantly. "You tell me any genius ideas you've got, _pharaoh_!"

"I-but. You're the thief! You think of the sneaky things!" Atem snapped defensively.Bakura laughed softly, and the pharaoh felt his cheeks flooding with heat. "I mean..."

"You're not used to doing naughty things," Bakura jeered. "Yeah, I know. The idea of skulking around the neighborhood is so unseemly."

"Don't take that tone with me when I haven't done anything to make you so catty," Atem said, narrowing his eyes.

He nearly screamed when Bakura lurched forward and cupped his chin. The thief directed Atem's eyes to his own, frowning deeply. Atem's body trembled slightly, but his expression remained the same. Haughty, defiant. Even when threatened, he was determined to play the part of a king.

"You seem to forget your place," the thief sneered. Atem could feel the older boy's breath disturbing the fine strands of hair that he had neglected to brush back before leaving the house. It tickled his ears and neck.

"And what is my place?" Atem asked, struggling to maintain a level tone of voice as he glared up at Bakura.

The thief chuckled. "The same as mine," he said. "You're an errand boy of the gods. You're no king."

Atem opened his mouth to retort, but stopped himself, worrying at his lip. "You can let me go, now," he muttered. The thief complied.

"Of course, Atem."

Bakura turned on his heel and left the room, leaving Atem alone. The pharaoh reached up to touch his face, seething. Drawing a deep breath, he pulled his hand away and clenched it into a tight fist.

"Bastard," he mumbled to himself as he stalked out of the kitchen.


	25. The Persuasiveness of Sidewalks

**Author's Notes:** Sometimes I use nonsense titles when I can't think of a good one. Also, review if you're going to fave or watch this for frick's sake.

**Sesen Chapter 25: The Persuasiveness of Sidewalks**

* * *

For lack of a more private place to avoid the pharaoh, Bakura made his way down the hallway, to the unoccupied room that Ryou's father called his own. He opened the door slowly, bracing himself for the smell of detergent and air freshener. Without anyone to live in it, the room retained its fresh-cleaned, hospital-like scent. Still, Ryou cleaned it almost continuously.

Past the half-empty dresser and the bare desk, he walked to the neatly dressed bed and settled down. Sleep was out of the question, of course, but rest tempted him. He reclined on the crisp sheets with a yawn, just trying to clear his mind long enough to relax. Though he tried, he was unable to distract himself from his worries and calm down. His mind continued to wander to the subjects of silent stalkers circling his apartment building, and his latest confrontation with the pharaoh. After several minutes of fitful twisting and turning, he jumped off the bed and walked back out of the sad little room. Perhaps a walk would help.

To take a walk, he had to pass through the living room, where the pharaoh had reclined on the couch.

"Where're you going?" the smaller boy asked, looking up.

Bakura curled his lip into a sneer and slipped his feet into his loosely tied sneakers. "It's none of your business," he said as he stepped out and slowly shut the door. He would have liked to slam it, but didn't want to risk waking Ryou.

To his relief, the halls of the building were deserted. If the crones downstairs had convinced themselves that he had taken Yuugi's place, he couldn't afford to have anyone think that he'd been tossed out after some imagined spat. The building would have seemed totally dead if not for the faint sounds of Ryou's neighbors snoring or speaking quietly, and the less-than-faint sound of the reclusive pervert in apartment 603 blaring some random television theme song on the tinny speakers of his computer.

Bakura took the stairs down to the ground floor and stepped out into the artificial glow of street lamps and traffic lights. From there, he turned down the street and slunk off, intent on getting some investigation done in the course of his wanderings. He turned at the first corner he came to, only to run right into a funny little Japanese man carrying a brightly-colored shopping bag. He stared down at the unusual character for a moment, taken aback by his appearance. The little nerd did the same, probably for the same reason. He wore his hair in a puffy, wild style, and had the same sort of woman-repelling eyeglasses that Ryou's father wore. The jacket patterned after Ultraman's costume completed his otaku appearance perfectly.

"Ah, sorry, sorry," the little man finally said as he tried to shuffle around Bakura and continue on his way. Bakura gladly stepped aside and let the little guy shuffle by. He turned to watch the man go, snickering at how positively overburdened that single shopping bag was. Of course, he didn't want to imagine what kind of perverted merchandise a person like that would be buying so late at night. He shuddered. Otaku. Just like that creep in the apartment next door.

"Damn creepy weirdos," he muttered, stuffing his hands into his pockets and continuing on. He limped every few steps, constantly reminded of the sizable cut in the sole of his foot. Walking home with no shoes seemed like such a stupid idea, in retrospect.

Unlike much of the city, Ryou's neighborhood seemed quiet and peaceful at night. The occasional car passed, but Bakura encountered very few other pedestrians. He limped along through the quiet neighborhood, his thoughts skipping erratically between subjects. He never walked to contemplate. He always walked to forget, to clear his head. He walked just to get away from things for an hour or so.

He wandered aimlessly for almost two hours, occasionally rubbing his bare arms against the cool night air. For all the chilly nights he had spent alone in the desert, Bakura had never developed so much as a grudging tolerance for cooler weather. He shuddered and swore under his breath when a droplet of rain landed comically on his nose.

"God damn Japan," he grumbled as he picked up his pace, searching for cover. He'd wandered too far to just run back to the apartment without getting drenched, but the little park up the street seemed promising.

Thankfully, he reached the covered sitting area just as the clouds opened up their fury on him. He dropped down onto one of the brightly colored benches, only partly soaked. The rain sloughed over the edge of the small structure's roof, creating a thin curtain of water that Bakura found himself staring at as he settled onto his side. He could hardly remember the last time he had taken the time to just lie down and watch the rain fall around him. Maybe he never had.

Without the constant distraction of his wandering, his head began to fill again, undoing all the hard work he had done to clear it out.

"Little prick thinks he can order me around," Bakura muttered to himself as he turned onto his back. He sighed and closed his eyes, trying to focus on the rushing sound of the rain the same way he had focused on his walk. He tried to focus on it the same way he focused on cleaning the apartment, or any of the other varied ways he kept his mind from contacting itself too often.

Before long, his mind wandered to thoughts of that damnable girl, the creepy bitch trying to further the twisted legacy of the Items. For all he knew, she could be casing his apartment building, just waiting for the right opportunity to creep into the apartment and... and what? Snap Ryou's neck? Bakura shuddered. At this point, he didn't even know what that woman wanted with Ryou besides bait. Still, the way she had spoken of him and handled him set Bakura's teeth on edge, as did the way she had stalked him before Bakura arrived with Atem.

He honestly didn't know how or even if they would be able to handle another attack from that lunatic. Her first attack alone had nearly killed both of him, and would have definitely killed Atem if Bakura hadn't gotten his second wind and found the strength to merge. Bakura rolled moodily onto his side again, noting that the rain had formed a miniature rushing river through the center of the park. It would be a muddy walk home.

"I could have just let him fall," Bakura mused. Of course, doing so would have landed Bakura in even more trouble, considering he definitely wouldn't have been able to fend off any further attacks on his own. As much as Bakura hated to admit it, their assignment depended on both of them staying alive for as long as possible. Still, he hadn't even been tempted to let Atem fall. In fact, he had sprung up to save him without a second thought.

His own restraint amazed him. Not only had he allowed Atem to live, even saved his life, but he had resisted every urge to put his smug face through the thin walls of Ryou's apartment. He talked with him, even when he didn't absolutely have to. That scrawny little brat who had nearly died trying to save his miserable life.

"He could have let me die, too," Bakura murmured, his eyes widening as the realization came over him.

The thought that Atem could have washed his hands of him fairly easily, but had chosen not to, disturbed Bakura more than his own actions. Surely Atem's arrogance would have prevented him from seeing any _practical_ reason to keep Bakura alive. So, Bakura reasoned that he had saved him to fulfill his innate desire to always be a hero. Not just _a_ hero, _the_ hero. The little shrimp hadn't exactly had the chance to play superhero in the afterlife, and that probably burned him more than the thought of keeping one dirty thief alive. Freshly bitter toward Atem, and satisfied, Bakura sighed and resigned himself to watching the temporary river of rain water rush by.

Staring vacantly out at the rain washed playground, Bakura could not help but reflect on just how much had changed in the past year. Yuugi and Ryou were practically engaged, Yuugi had finally grown to an average height, and Malik had breasts. The first and second developments were pleasantly surprising and amusing respectively, but the third was just little disturbing.

Bakura could handle Yuugi and Ryou's relationship, Yuugi's attitude aside, but the thought of Malik as anything but a man set him on edge. Why in the Hell would anyone want to be a woman, for that matter? Bakura shuddered at the thought of developing breasts and losing the most personal body part he had.

Then again, he had once believed that only a pervert could find another male attractive sexually. Ryou had changed that, in a lot of ways. He had indulged in the pleasures of other men in his previous life, but seeing Ryou so happy with Yuugi made him reconsider the uneasy feeling that had accompanied these indulgences. If loving Yuugi made Ryou happy, then, what was so wrong with having breasts making Malik happy? Well, Bakura couldn't just write down a list of reasons, but something about the whole process seemed off to him.

On the other hand, Malik could make a fairly attractive woman. He'd always been girly-looking, anyway. Bakura shuddered again at that thought, chasing it back into the recesses of my his mind. No. No, no, no. Breasts or no, Malik was a conniving little prick. He couldn't cop a feel on someone crazier if he wanted to. He had to wonder, though, if Malik was interested in sex at all. With a perky little pair of breasts like that, it would be kind of a shame if-

No. Bakura sat up and shook his head. If she'd gone home with the blond idiot, she probably already had someone to occupy with those little handfuls of flesh, anyway.

"Talk about an odd couple," he muttered to himself. He rubbed his arms and looked out at the playground again. To his relief, the rain had lessened to a slow, misty drizzle.

Satisfied, the thief stepped out into the drizzling rain. As he walked out of the little park, his stomach grumbled insistently, reminding him that breakfast time was only a scant few hours away. He drummed his fingers against his leg, glancing up and down the street and considering his options. Now that the rain had subsided, Bakura could see early morning wanderers meandering through the streets. Restless, harried students, ulcerated businessman, and even a few insomniac housewives. The question was, however, which of them had the best chance of having money on them?

He leaned against the front window of a closed shop and watched. Just watched. He watched clothing labels, shoe emblems, and hairstyles. He watched mannerisms and postures, back pocket bulges and swaying purses.

Before long, an excellent mark staggered into view. Bakura smiled, noting the man's messy suit, jacket slung over his shoulder, and slipping eyeglasses. He'd obviously been spending the long night with the drink. He skulked past Bakura, swaying slightly as he tried to check the time on his watch. As he passed, Bakura stepped up behind him and gave him a light tap on the shoulder, putting on his most nonthreatening smile. He could do a good job of that, when he tried. The drunk turned to him with an equally amiable expression; apparently Bakura had decided to pickpocket a rare happy drunk.

"What're you doin' out here so late?" the tipsy businessman asked, checking his wristwatch again. "Or is it early, now?"

"I'd say it's early," Bakura replied, his smile unwavering. He placed a friendly hand on the older man's shoulder. "Actually, could you give me the time?"

The salaryman squinted down at his watch and sighed, screwing his mouth up as if deep in thought. "Almost four, now," he said.

"Really?" Bakura gasped, taking hold of the man's wrist and bringing it right up to his face. Meanwhile, the hand that had rested on the man's shoulder slipped ever so delicately down his back, to the fat little prize in his pants pocket. "I should've been home over two hours ago," he groaned as he quickly but gingerly liberated the man's wallet. "Hope you make it home safe, gramps."

He released the man's hand and casually stepped behind and past him, stuffing his hands and the pilfered wallet into the pockets of his jeans as he walked back in the direction the man had come from. After twenty steps, he let out a relieved sigh and calmly took a corner onto another street before fishing the bills out of the wallet and letting it drop to the ground. Amazingly, he hadn't seen a single soul since taking it.

Feeling a bit ill at ease at the relative simplicity of what he had imagined would be a challenging task, he picked the wallet back up and gave it a thorough rubbing down with his shirt. He remembered stories Ryou had read about murderers being caught through fingerprinting, and it stood to reason that theft could also be traced in such a way. Never mind that his fingerprints couldn't possibly be in any database; it was best to be safe. He let the wallet drop again, from his shirt-cloaked hand.

He walked on, with his pocket full of uncounted bills, until he reached a modest little concrete bench to rest on and count his bounty. To his surprise, the simple pickpocketing had earned him six thousand yen, which was nothing to take for granted. He smiled to himself as he pondered what to do with his ill-gotten pay, and decided that a visit to the convenience store nearest the apartment building would be best. A better stocked refrigerator would surely cheer Ryou up, or at least make breakfast a little more filling.

Satisfied with his plan, he hopped off the bench and plodded off in the dimly approaching sunrise. When he finally reached the convenience store, he had tallied up a shopping list for himself in his head. He stepped inside, and was immediately startled by the cheerful greeting from the clerk. He turned to the skinny little man and waved, though he couldn't wipe the look of shocked annoyance off his face. Nobody should be so happy so early in the morning.

The clerk returned the wave and returned to his work, and Bakura set about gathering up his groceries. First, he would replace the noodles and crab that he had ruined. He walked past the cold food case in time to remember that Ryou's doctor had always advised him to drink plenty of milk, and that the carton in the fridge was growing feet. He grabbed a quart of milk and vowed not to drink from it, and to leave it all for Ryou. After all, Ryou needed it more. Next came a head of cabbage, a carton of juice, a pack of chicken thighs, and a box of cream puffs from the little baked goods display.

When he stepped up to the counter, the clerk smiled at him nervously as he rang up each item.

"Do you uh...?" the man began, fidgeting. Bakura felt a tiny bit of pity for him; he hardly looked older than Ryou, and was probably working his way through college. Tough break, but he didn't have to be so damn creepy.

"Spit it out," Bakura said, frowning at the little man. The clerk flinched and smiled wider, bowing his head slightly.

"Do you know the cute little foreign girl who comes in here sometimes?" the man asked, his words running together. He accepted payment for the groceries, and handed Bakura his change.

Bakura just raised an eyebrow and snickered. Maybe he wasn't the only person who found Malik's new form a little too attractive. Of course, the poor clerk probably didn't know what Bakura did.

"She's my little cousin," he said after a short pause. It seemed believable enough, and may have even been true in the most remote sense. The thief grabbed his grocery bags and turned to leave, eager to end the conversation. Unfortunately, one of the bags seemed to have caught on something. HE turned, only to find the clerk holding one of his bags in place.

"Do you ever... think about it?" the man asked with a crooked smile.

Bakura yanked the bag away and glowered at him. "About what?" he sneered.

"About... you know. With your cousin. She's so cute..."

Bakura just cuffed the pitiful little man in the head and walked out of the store, rendered speechless in a mixture of confusion and disgust at the man's shameless, creepy question.

He walked home with his bags of groceries, feeling somewhat better and more accomplished than he had when he rushed out of the apartment earlier. As he rounded the corner onto his street and ascended the stairs to the sixth floor, he wondered briefly if anyone was still awake. He noted the faint glow of a light from underneath the crack of the door as he let himself inside.

"Finally back?" a soft, sleepy voice asked from the sofa. Atem sat up slowly and blinked his overly large eyes at him, and Bakura swallowed hard. Something akin to dread stirred in his stomach, heavy and restless. It made him feel a bit ill.

"I went shopping," the thief announced, shuffling quietly to the kitchen. Atem followed him, of course. The sound of his little feet padding along made that clear before Bakura even turned his head to glance at the boy.

Atem stepped up beside him, glaring. "And where'd you get money to do that?" he asked, using that smug, haughty tone that Bakura knew so well. The thief smirked.

"I offered to channel spirits for a drunk man," he said matter of factly, somewhat amused at the excuse that had jumped out of his mouth.

"Really?" Atem asked, folding his arms as he watched Bakura put the groceries away. "What did you channel?"

"Just told my friends and family to coast around him a little bit and spoke some gibberish," Bakura replied flippantly. "I didn't even get two thousand yen for putting on that stupid act."

The pharaoh nodded, though he still eyed Bakura suspiciously. "Yeah, that sounds about right for what you brought," he mused. He frowned and looked up at Bakura. "Don't just leave like that again."

"Don't tell me what to do," Bakura countered, his voice flat and unamused. He shut the fridge and stepped back into the living room, sitting heavily on the couch. Atem followed, naturally. To his surprise, the boy took a seat quite near to him. He repressed the urge to scoot away.

"Bakura-kun was worried about you," Atem said, his gaze flicking over to Bakura's face. Bakura could hear him swallow quite audibly.

The thief chuckled and flicked a bit of dirt from under a fingernail. "It's not like I was in any danger," he said. He gave Atem a smug grin. "And was he really concerned?"

"Of course he was," Atem answered without a moment of hesitation.

"Were you?"

"Of course I wasn't."


	26. Enter the Radarman

**Sesen Chapter 26: **Enter the Radarman

* * *

"Your foot's bleeding again," Atem said as he watched Bakura pulling his sneakers off. "And you shouldn't wear those shoes into the apartment."

Bakura shot him an annoyed glance before propping his bare feet up on the arm of the sofa and sighing. "It's not like either thing matters," he said.

"I'd think your foot would, at least!" Atem spat back, already becoming aggravated with the thief again. "Honestly, it's like your health doesn't matter to you."

The thief lay there, silent. Atem frowned deeply and sat heavily on the other end of the couch, glowering down at him.

"So, where did you go?" he asked, stealing another glance at the sopping bandage on Bakura's foot. Gods, if that wasn't just asking for an infection...

"Shopping, then home," Bakura replied tersely. "Honestly, what do you need to know for?"

Atem grumbled to himself and settled back against the couch. "You shouldn't have been out in the damp, at least," he said after a few moments. "Your bandage is all wet and dirty."

The thief sat up suddenly, and Atem flinched, recalling their earlier spat and just how confrontational Bakura could be.

"What are you, my mother?" Bakura sneered.

"It at least needs to be changed, Bakura," Atem replied, relieved not to be pinned against the couch or in some otherwise dangerous position. He hated that Bakura could intimidate him so, even when they were supposedly on even ground.

Bakura sighed and waved a dismissive hand. "Ryou's resting, idiot," he said sharply. "I'm not going to wake him up just so he can baby me."

"Let me do it," Atem said, gripping Bakura's arm as if to hold him in place on the couch. "There's nothing hard about it."

The thief snarled and yanked his arm away. "You'll just fuck it up," he said.

"Let me do it," Atem repeated, narrowing his eyes. His voice must have been commanding enough, because Bakura sighed and settled against the couch. The thief pouted a little, which Atem had to admit (at least privately) was an amusing expression on his face.

"Go ahead if you're gonna bitch about it," Bakura said as he propped his foot up on the coffee table. He smirked at Atem as if challenging him to tell him to get his feet off the table. Atem just sighed, got up, and walked to the bathroom to retrieve the first aid kit.

By the time he'd returned, Bakura had laid himself out on the couch, his bare feet resting on one arm of the couch as he lounged. Atem settled down at the end of the couch, setting the little white box on the floor beside him. Bakura didn't even look up as he unwound the bandage on his foot. The wound wasn't especially deep, but Bakura's late night strolling hadn't helped matters any.

"It's just going to keep opening up like this if you keep walking around all the time," Atem said as he opened the kit and fished out a small spray bottle of antiseptic. When Bakura didn't reply, Atem shrugged and sprayed some of the solution onto the wound, and was far too amused when Bakura immediately retracted his foot.

The thief snarled and glared at him. "You could give a little warning before you do that," he said.

Atem grabbed his foot back and sighed. "Stop being such a sissy," he sneered, noting with some amusement that Bakura's toes had scrunched up tensely. He smiled a little, amused that a posturing jackass like Bakura could act like a bratty child in the face of first aid supplies.

"I'm not being a sissy," Bakura insisted. Atem could swear he caught the tomb robber pouting. "I just don't like stinging things."

"Would you rather I be more gentle?" Atem asked, his voice dripping with mock sweetness.

Bakura snorted and folded his arms over his chest. "As if I'd ask anything like that of you," he mumbled.

Atem ducked his head and set to work carefully rewrapping Bakura's foot, momentarily cowed by the implications of that statement. He sometimes forgot that Bakura probably still held a grudge against him, whether they were supposed to get along or not. He contemplated this for a few moments, and managed to get so lost in his own thoughts that he startled when Bakura broke the silence.

"Did you wanna keep me company until Ryou wakes up?"

"I... sure," Atem replied after a moment. He set the first aid kit aside and took a seat on the armchair beside the couch. "Seems kind of odd for you to get lonely."

Bakura grunted. "Like the great pharaoh knows anything about being lonely," he sneered. Atem winced, but held his tongue. The tomb robber scowled and folded his arms, looking away. "Even in death, you have your family and your ass-kissing priests."

"And you haven't got anyone?" Atem countered. "You haven't got Bakura-kun, or your family, or anyone else?"

"I won't have Ryou as soon as we're done here, and my family is a bunch of wandering ghosts," Bakura hissed. He propped himself up on his elbows with a slight groan and glared at Atem. "That's what pisses me off about you, pharaoh. One of many things. I'll have nothing once this is over. For all we've already gone through and more, I'll come out with nothing to show for it. Neither will you, but at least you have less to lose by leaving the land of the living."

Atem fell silent, suddenly finding something very interesting on the little bit of carpet between his slippered feet. "I try not to think about returning," he murmured after a few moments spent under the imagined heat of Bakura's gaze. He finally looked up, managing a bland smile. "I like it here, you know?"

Bakura raised an eyebrow and settled back, seemingly shocked by the admission. Atem watched tensely as the thief got up off the couch and hobbled over to the television to open up the little cabinet underneath.

"Play a video game with me," Bakura commanded, thrusting a controller at him.

Atem hesitated, but Bakura waved the controller at him until he accepted it. Could it be that Bakura was just dropping the conversation and being civil? Unthinkable! Still, it couldn't hurt to take a break from bickering and enjoy the early morning. He settled down on the floor and waited for Bakura to join him.The thief landed on the floor with a soft thud and reclined against the couch, looking oddly content. Atem watched him for a moment before turning his attention to the game that Bakura had already started.

"You can play first," Bakura said, nodding to the opening menu displayed on the screen. "It's a one player game, but we can swap from time to time. Just load up the saved game and I'll fill you in on what to do."

"Sure..." Atem said, loading the game. As soon as the game loaded, he paged through the journal entries. It was very obviously one of the survival horror games that Ryou sang the praises of. Opening the inventory menu left him a little confused. The few weapons in his character's possession had obvious uses, as did the keys, but... "What's the photograph for?"

"Don't know yet," Bakura replied with a shrug and a yawn. "Maybe we'll find out."

They played for less than two hours before Bakura crawled back onto the couch to nap while Atem continued to search for some use for the photograph. It opened no doors, fit in none of the empty spaces on the cluttered walls, and stirred no interest in the one non-aggressive NPC he had managed to find. He reclined back against the couch with a sigh, looking over at Bakura's sleeping form and smiling just a little. The thief had developed some impressive dark patches under his eyes, and Atem couldn't help but feel a little sympathy. At least he himself had been able to catch a nap. Bakura had opted to go strolling off gods only knew where.

The tomb robber rolled over and mumbled something unintelligible. Atem resumed playing his game, continuing down the seemingly endless hallway, lined with empty picture frames and strange paintings. The photograph belonged in none of them, as far as the game was concerned. He'd tried them all, some numerous times.

Soon, Atem was engrossed in the game once more, exploring the lonely rooms with great interest. Just as he was nodding off, a sound in the hallway beyond the living room alerted him. He yawned deeply and paused the game before getting to his feet to investigate.

"Yuugi? Bakura-kun?" he called softly, not wanting to wake Bakura. When no answer came, he frowned and walked toward Ryou's room. As soon as he put his hand to the door knob, a soft shuffling sound caught his attention. He turned just in time to see something disappear into the bathroom down the hall. He followed, still calling for his friends.

"You failed."

Atem shuddered and glanced around frantically. "Who's there?" he demanded. There was no answer but a soft giggle from the bathroom. He dashed for the open door, stopping dead in his tracks as soon as he caught sight of the blood bath inside. Fresh, bright blood smeared in long trails along the tile floor and walls, more than Atem thought a single body could hold. In the center of it all was Ryou, crumpled in a heap on the floor, totally pale save for the parts of his body that had been coated in blood.

"B-Bakura-kun..." he murmured, tears forming in his eyes as a strong wave of nausea hit him. He shuddered again and slowly approached his fallen friend, tears clouding his vision. He stopped mid-step, choking back his nausea. He reached down tentatively, timidly, to touch the boy's shoulder. Cold.

"You failed, pharaoh," that same wispy voice from before hissed. The translucent form of Saito Suzu phased into view behind Ryou, lightly stroking his blood-caked hair. "For all your power, you couldn't protect this one boy. You can't protect the thief, either. You can't protect any of them."

Atem stared dumbly at her, shaking his head. "N-no," he managed after a few moments.

Suzu giggled, and a hoarse scream echoed from the living room. Recognizing Bakura's voice, Atem got shakily to his feet and took off for the door, only to find it replaced by a new section of wall. He turned back to Suzu, glaring nothing but intent to kill at her, just in time to see Ryou's tattered body lift itself up from the floor.

"You failed, Atem-kuuuun..." Ryou croaked through his sliced throat. Atem backed up against the wall as Bakura called his name desperately from the room beyond it. Ryou continued to jibber nonsense and hateful words at him as he lurched closer. Atem sunk to his knees, clasping his hands over his ears in the vain, desperate attempt to drown out Bakura's cries and Ryou's raspy jabbering.

And in an instant, it was all gone. He found himself staring up at the white ceiling of Ryou's living room, gasping for breath with Bakura out like a light beside him. He must have rolled off the couch and decided it wasn't worth the trouble to get back up again.

As if sensing Atem's wakefulness, Bakura sighed, moaned softly, and sat up. He rubbed sleep from his eyes as he regarded Atem with a confused stare. "Must be past noon already," he murmured, stretching.

Atem wouldn't admit it, but he was relieved to see something as mundane as Bakura slowly but surely waking up after having such a surreal dream. He nodded and sighed. "Do you think Yuugi and Bakura-kun are awake yet?" he asked.

"I doubt it," Bakura mumbled, standing. He paused for a moment, silent and still. "I don't hear any movement in the kitchen, so I'll assume that they're fast asleep."

"Does Bakura-kun usually cook first thing in the morning?" Atem asked with a faint smile. It was nice to imagine Ryou cheerfully preparing breakfast while Bakura tried to haul his lazy body off of the couch.

Bakura nodded. "Almost always," he said, turning to Atem with a slight smirk. "Since he's not cooking, do you wanna go get breakfast at the convenience store?"

Atem couldn't help but laugh a bit at the lazy suggestion. "Yeah, all right," he said, stretching and reaching over to shut the game console off. Ryou would be so annoyed to know that he'd left it on for so long without even playing it. "You're paying, though."

"Tch. Cheap bastard," Bakura muttered, already stepping into his shoes.

Atem chuckled and followed his lead. "You can't complain too much," he said, smirking. "After all, I am your king."

"Don't make me clock you upside the head," Bakura said with a hint of a smile. That pleased Atem, to see Bakura smile like that.

They left the apartment as quietly as they could, Bakura taking special care to ever so quietly shut the door before creeping away.

"You're awfully considerate," Atem said as he crept along behind the thief. "Maybe Bakura-kun was right in keeping you around."

"I'm a good tenant," Bakura said, nodding.

"Yes, and an excellent maid," Atem said, totally incapable of resisting the easy joke. "Even Yuugi admits you keep a cleaner home than Bakura-kun."

Bakura visibly flinched. "Don't you dare tell Ryou that, or he'll have me doing it all day."

"Like you don't already," Atem countered.

Atem privately enjoyed the warm spring afternoon as they walked to the convenience store. In the climate controlled utopia he had spent the previous year in, he had often found himself missing things like spring showers and the freshened days that followed their end. He had even come to miss thunderstorms, at times when the nights in his perfect world were just too peaceful. Atem hoped that he could experience a thunderstorm before he and Bakura had to leave again.

He started slightly at the electronic voice that greeted them upon entering the convenience store. Having been startled out of his musing, he looked up to see Bakura inexplicably glaring at the clerk behind the counter. He gave a sharp tug at the thief's sleeve, drawing his attention.

"You didn't... did you?" Atem asked in a hushed tone of voice, eying Bakura suspiciously.

Bakura scoffed. "I'm not that shameless, pharaoh," he said, subtly pointing to the clerk. "He is a sick man."

Atem blinked and glanced over at the clerk. The inoffensive-looking young man didn't even acknowledge their presence, quite wrapped up in the chore of sorting impulse buy items into neat rows in their display boxes. He looked bored and possibly a little anal, but not deranged.

"What makes you say that?" the pharaoh asked, still watching the bored clerk arrange the novelty pens just so.

The thief visibly shuddered. "Let's just get our food and go," he said, hurrying over to the hot foods counter. Atem followed after taking one last look at the clerk.

"What're we gonna get?" Atem asked, looking over the various packaged lunches. He'd never bought convenience food before. It all looked trustworthy, if not kind of tasty, but Atem figured that Bakura would know better what kind of cheap food to get. Not that he'd admit to Bakura knowing anything better than he did, of course.

"I'm getting yakitori," Bakura replied as he grabbed one of the boxes and headed for the register. "You get whatever you want."

Atem sighed. He grabbed a beef bowl and followed Bakura, just in time to see the clerk profusely apologizing and bowing over and over again, holding Bakura's lunch.

"I'll get a new one right away! I'm so sorry," the man kept repeating, bowing his way all the way back to the hot foods counter. He handed another yakitori lunch to Bakura, and Atem marveled at how he managed to do that while still bowing. Atem reasoned that clerks had to be well trained in the art of apologizing for anything and everything.

Bakura yanked the food out of the clerk's hands and stomped back to the register, laying some money down. "That should cover his, too," he said as he sauntered out the automatic doors. Atem hurriedly let the clerk ring his food up, and followed Bakura out into the afternoon light.

"What was that all about?" he asked when he found Bakura feeding coins into the soda machine by the door.

Bakura retrieved his drink and rolled his eyes. "Idiot left an out of date box in there," he said bitterly. He paused to take a long drink of his soda. "Some people are useless."

"You should remember to check the date so you don't get food poisoning someday," Atem chastised him as he carefully pulled the plastic lid away from his food and tossed it into a nearby garbage bin.

Bakura eyed him with a smug smirk. "What's the expiration date on that?"

Atem paused, looked down at his beef bowl, and frowned.

"That's what I thought," Bakura said, smugly chomping on a skewer.

"Oh, shut up," Atem grumbled, carefully separating his chopsticks before taking an experimental bite of his food. His face lit up in a happy grin. "It's just fine! It's almost tasty, even."

Bakura scarfed down the rest of his first skewer and laughed to himself. "Just don't jinx yourself again."

The pharaoh paused, looking up at Bakura. "What do you mean?" he asked, just before realization dawned on him. "Oh."

"Almost got your fool self killed rushing off to play hero," Bakura mumbled around a mouthful of food, looking thoughtful. For a change.

"I really wish you'd stop bringing that up," Atem said, shooting him a sidelong glance as he paused from his meal. "You're only going to piss me off if-"

Atem's sentence was cut off by a sharp yelp as some... _thing_ emerged from the neatly trimmed bushes alongside the pavement. The creature bowed its enormous, hairy head and knelt before him, its leathery red and white skin creaking. Atem shuddered and wondered why creepy things continued to visit him.

"Pharaoh!" it exclaimed. "I've finally found you! And your guardian is with you as well, I see."

Bakura and Atem both sputtered indignantly, and Bakura grabbed the creature and pulled it to its feet. It raised its fuzzy head, revealing that it was not a creature at all, but a strangely-dressed young man with puffy hair and what could only be described as the most outrageous two-toned jacket Atem had ever seen. Bakura was silent for a moment, his eyes narrowing.

"It's you," he snarled. Atem stared at the two of them, confused.

"Do you two... know one another?" the pharaoh asked.

"Not really," the man replied as Bakura released him. "We only met recently."

"He's a creepy little stalker nerd!" Bakura snapped, pointing an accusing finger at the man, who cringed, obviously expecting to be snagged again.

The man straightened and sighed, composing himself. "I can see how you would think that," he said, his voice calm and diplomatic. It seemed out of place, considering his garish mode of dress. "However, you need to know that I'm on your side."

Atem looked up at Bakura, who looked less than convinced. He decided to speak up before the thief tried throttling the stranger again. "I hope you know we can't be expected to take your word for it," he said. He sighed a little when the man bowed deeply. "You don't have to do that, you kn-"

"Please!" the young man wailed, the pitch of the sound so high that it caused Bakura to flinch. "You have to understand. My name is Kon Hideo. I'm a clerk at the Domino Museum and a freelance investigator. For the past year, I've been researching anything related to the Nameless Pharaoh – Er, you. You can imagine how shocked I was to see what looked an awful lot like one of the three gods in the same vicinity as one of the creatures I'd been investigating!"

Stunned silence fell over Atem and Bakura for a few moments before the pharaoh piped up. "You've seen those things before?"

Bakura snarled and stepped in front of Atem, cutting him off. "How the Hell did you see that?" he demanded. Hideo took a step back, looking nervous. "If you saw that, how close were you? What were you doing so close to that woman?"

Before Atem could stop himself, he found himself grabbing onto Bakura's shirt to hold him in check. He didn't want the situation to escalate into violence, even if Hideo was working with Suzu. Who knew what kind of power he had, if she were controlling him?

"Well, see, my apartment faces the bridge," Hideo explained hastily, eying Bakura nervously. "I also keep a rather advanced camera and telescope for my investigations."

"So you have pictures," Bakura said coldly, stressing the grip that Atem had on his shirt.

Hideo swallowed. "Just a couple," he said. "I submitted the blurrier ones to the local news and kept the better ones for myself."

Bakura blinked, his expression fading into one of disbelief. "You mean the pictures of me as an 'angel'?" he asked dully.

"You could have also been a UFO," Hideo added, earning another snarl from Bakura. "But that's not the point. The point is that I've been monitoring the young lady and her... companions, as well. I've discovered some things that I believe would be of use to you. We can meet at my apartment this evening. I have my conditions, though."

Atem held Bakura back and stepped up, leaving the thief to glower at his back. He straightened to his full (is abysmally unimpressive) height. "Name your conditions," he said.

After Hideo got over his awe at Atem's sudden shift into monarch mode, he replied, "Let me fight with you."


End file.
